


Untouchable -- A Jared Leto/Mars Fanfiction (Book 1 of the Untouchable Series)

by Kim_Greenwood



Series: The Untouchable Series [1]
Category: 30 Seconds to Mars, jared leto - Fandom, shannon leto - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 23:12:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 110,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14507553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kim_Greenwood/pseuds/Kim_Greenwood
Summary: When her paranoid, violent ex-husband gains custody of their eleven year old daughter Shelby, Lanie McCarty knows she has no choice but to rescue her child, flee Minnesota, and disappear. Trained from childhood to forage, hunt, fish, gather, and build shelters from anything on hand, Lanie and Shelby disappear into the wilderness around Oak Creek Canyon, Arizona. But Lanie doesn't count on stumbling on award-winning actor and 30 Seconds to Mars front man Jared Leto, injured and near death. As cut off from civilization as they are,  it's up to her and Shelby to save his life.As Jared recovers under Lanie's expert care, she gets to know her world-famous patient in a way few ever have.  And when he offers her and Shelby safety and sanctuary in his vast Hollywood mansion, Lanie finds it impossible to refuse him. Her genuine attraction to this gorgeous enigma of a man is a given; plus he's brilliant and has a soft spot for Shelby. But Jared's aversion to relationships hints of a troubled past that he hasn't yet come to terms with.





	1. Chapter 1

 

**Chapter One**

 

Shelby and I have been on the old, unused trail since dinner. Though she's used to the exercise and the rough terrain, two hours straight is enough for an eleven-year-old. Especially since she's stubbornly hung onto her own pack, even when I've repeatedly offered to take it. "I'm good, Mom," she's answered each time, her rugged hiking boots kicking up little clouds of rust-colored dust as we continue down the nearly-obscure path through the forest, dry creek beds and fissures of small canyons in north-central Arizona.

If I were doing this alone, I could go on a few more hours before stopping and making camp. I would keep moving, because staying in one place any longer than absolutely necessary is too risky. We haven't been gone long enough, we haven't gone far enough to slow down.

But Shelby's exhausted. I scan the deepening indigo sky for signs of anything beyond a lone red hawk circling overhead, its occasional piercing cry splitting the air above. I haven't heard a plane or a chopper; if I had, I wouldn't dare to be on the trail at all. We'd be in the thickest forest surrounding us.

_A drone, though. A drone is silent, or at least relatively so. And I wouldn't put it past Todd or one of his friends to send one up._

_Right...a drone. From eighteen hundred miles northeast of here? C'mon._

But my ex-husband might no longer be in Minnesota. He might be on his way. He might be here. In Phoenix, in Flagstaff, in Sedona, or waiting around the next bend of the path. He's capable of appearing out of nowhere, silent and deadly.

"Mom?" Shelby's voice is soft...she's remembered the instructions I gave her the day we left, and her voice blends with the rustling of undergrowth, the chirping of birds, and the quiet liquid burble of a shallow creek not far off the trail to the right. Only because she is my daughter and we are so incredibly in tune with each other in every way do I hear her. I walk over to her and murmur, "What's up, kiddo?"

Shelby gestures at a clearing on a hillside. "How about somewhere over there? Over the top of this hill and the on the other side of the creek I can hear." She plays with one of her ash-blonde braids, waiting for my approval.

"Looks good from here. Let's check it out."  _As long as we can't be spotted, but can still observe,_ I add silently as we leave the trail and move in near silence through the undergrowth toward the sound of the creek. Shelby knows as well as I do that we have to be careful. She knows what her father is capable of. A surge of fury makes me clench my hands into tight fists, and I can't resist a glance down at my daughter's face as she walks beside me, her small features alert, serious and focused; hers is a child's face that is wise beyond her years, in part because she's seen and gone through more than a little girl ever should.

She's tough, though. Tough, smart, independent, and capable. Everything I've taught her to be. Well...we both taught her. I do have to credit Todd for much of Shelby's survivalist training even though I hate his guts, even though the deadlier elements of his skills nearly killed me the last time he snapped, and his cunning and stealth enabled him to take Shelby from me.

"Perfect," I pronounce when Shelby points at a cluster of huge oaks with a clearing in the middle of them. It's across the creek, but the water isn't very deep and the current isn't terribly fast. About a hundred yards beyond the other side of the creek is a fifty-foot wall of rock, glowing scarlet with the residual light of sunset. The top edge of the cliff is wooded, and the trees in between should provide adequate cover from any prying eyes that might be up there. But its position would give me a great 360-degree view of our surroundings. I look down at the creek. "I guess we're going wading, though."

The creek is icy-cold, as I discover when I remove my boots and socks to dip a toe in it. Shelby laughs when a school of silvery-gray minnows instantly converges around the alien invader of their aquatic home. Their nibbles tickle and my laughter joins hers.

"If there's minnows, there's probably fish," Shelby says, studying the middle of the creek. It's shallow enough to see the rocky bottom. "Maybe not too many catfish, the water's too clear for them, but there might be trout, huh?"

"You may be right," I agree. "But we already ate and it's getting too dark to make any kind of fishing rig. We'd best set up shelter." I nod at her backpack. "I better carry that so it doesn't get wet." I unbutton my jeans and slide them off. Stuffing them in my own pack, I tell her, "Off with the clothes, too. All of them."

"Aw mom, I can put on dry ones," Shelby complains. But when I fix her with the look, she does what she's told, though scowling the whole time.

We make it across the creek without incident, though the current is stronger than it looks and I have to hold Shelby's hand tight as I struggle to keep myself upright as we slowly make our way through the water. The rocks that make up the creek bed are as slick as ice under my bare feet, and the deepest part is nearly to my hips and Shelby's waist. I regret that we found this place so late in the day. Fresh trout sounds heavenly, and I'm sure this creek is teeming with them, it's the perfect trout-fishing spot. Perhaps we can rig up some gear in the morning and have some for breakfast before we head out again.

After checking the ground carefully for signs of painful fire-ants and worse, scorpions, rattlers or black widows, we sit on the creek bank and dry off before dressing again and getting to work building our shelter for the night.

Shelby has become very adept at building shelters. She used to do it at home, using anything at her disposal. In fact, Shelby can do just about everything I can; her smaller size and lesser strength are her only limitations. My little girl was raised in the northwoods, running wild through the forest and absorbing all the knowledge both her dad and I instilled in her from birth. From identifying edible wild plants and animal tracks, from building snares to catch game to assembling, disassembling, cleaning and loading both rifles and shotguns, making smokeless fires without a match or a lighter, to building shelters against all types of weather and administering first-aid hundreds of miles from modern medicine, my kid knows almost as much as Todd and I do.

Using good-sized bare branches for walls, piles of soft grass and leaves for our bed, and thick foliage overhead for a roof, we have a cozy shelter set up in the clearing within an hour. I'm tying down the last corner of the roof to the wall using a long strip of bark when a sound, alien to this pristine place, cuts through the usual twilight noise of the forest.

It sounds like a gasp and a moan, but it's so brief and so unexpected that I'm not sure exactly what it is.

My hearing is extremely sharp. I have a finely tuned ear, and the slightest noise that breaks the rhythm of my environment is something I immediately am able to pick up on. It's a needed skill when hunting game, and, lately, for avoiding other people.

Shelby, holding down the other end of the bark strip while I wind it around the top branch of the wall, freezes instantly. We lock eyes; her brown eyes wide.  _Did you..._ she mouths, but she knows that I heard it, too. I hold my breath, straining to hear anything further as I picture us gathering our things and darting into the woods, leaving our newly constructed shelter behind. Well, it's bound to happen sooner or later. Todd's probably got some of his militia buddies out combing every place he suspects we've run to. I look skyward again, sure I'm going to see the drone appear at last. Every day and night of the seven since we made our escape I've been expecting it.

The sound comes again, and this time, because I'm listening for it, I can identify what it is. It's a cry. It's weak, it's full of both pain and terror, but it's a cry from a sentient being. Whether that being is human or animal, I can't be sure.

"It's coming from over by the cliff," Shelby whispers amid the din of crickets in the surrounding woods. "I think it's a man. An injured man." Her eyes dart in that direction.

I let go of the strip of bark and reach for my pack resting against the shelter. "Come on," I order. She doesn't move. "Shelby, get your pack! We have to go!"

Shelby's eyes dart toward the cliff as another, louder and unmistakably human cry pierces the tense silence. "Mom..."

I sling my heavy pack over my shoulder. I grab Shelby's and then yank her with me away from the shelter, away from the sound of the crying man.

Unmindful of getting my boots wet, I run to the creek with Shelby's hand still in mine. In order to lessen our noise, I step in the creek and follow it downstream instead of up. All the while I'm thinking,  _what if it's an ambush? What if the one man was positioned there to flush us out and into a trap? Where's my knife? My gun? Both in my pack, of course. Why, when I need it most, am I so goddamned unprepared for this?_

Slowly it registers that Shelby is struggling against my death-grip. "Mom, stop!" she finally cries.

"Shut up!" I hiss. We've left the shelter and whoever that was probably a mile behind and it's just about full dark now. I make my way out of the creek and onto the shore. Shelby yanks her hand out of mine and stands there staring at me balefully.

"Mom," she says. "Whoever that is, he isn't there because of us."

"We don't know that," I respond, leaning against a tree. My boots are soaked, and they make squishy sounds when I shift my weight from one to the other. They'll take days to dry properly, and two big, interconnected rules about surviving in the wilderness are taking good care of your footwear, and keeping your feet dry. In my panic, I sure blew that one. "Shelby, we're in the middle of nowhere. Who else would be here but someone looking for us?"

"I don't know. A park ranger?"

I smile and shake my head. "A park ranger goes around in a vehicle or on horseback. Have you seen any roads in the last couple of days? Have you seen or heard a car? Or a horse, for that matter?" I indicate the terrain around us. "I'm not even sure we're still in the state park. That trail we were on hasn't been maintained in a very long time." I sigh, not looking forward to building another shelter in the rapidly approaching full-darkness of night. But it can't be helped; I'm not risking going back to where we were, no matter how much Shelby tries to convince me to, and she does, the whole time I'm gathering more material.

"It might be a hiker who got lost and maybe fell and hurt himself," Shelby mutters. "We could help him. What if that's all he is? What if he  _dies?"_

"Then he shouldn't have been stupid enough to be out here if he doesn't know how to survive," I snap as I tie off the roof. "End of discussion. Unroll your sleeping bag and get to bed."

Shelby throws me a look of both hurt and anger, but she does what she's told. I watch her silently go through the ritual of checking her bag for hostile invaders before climbing in til only one of her braids is visible.

Once she's settled, I fetch our empty water bottles, and go down to the creek. I wade out into the middle and fill them before returning to shore and dropping a few granules from my precious supply of iodine crystals into each. I cap the bottles tightly and place them among the tall grasses and rocks near the shore to keep them cold. By morning they'll be purified and ready to drink.

I change out of my wet jeans, drape them and my socks over a low hanging branch, and unlace my boots to air out the insides. As I do these things, I yawn and it hits me just how bone-weary I am. Two days of break-neck, sleepless travel, selling my car to the first dealership I find in Winslow, then setting off on foot with Shelby, all the while constantly on high alert, has taken its toll. I'm good at this; I've won awards, and I was recruited to be a participant on  _Survivor_ as well as  _Naked and Afraid_. Of course Todd put a kabosh on both of those opportunities.

But over the years I've spent months outdoors in every climate and terrain the western hemisphere has to offer; from extreme cold in Canada to the blistering desert southwest not far from here, and the most tropic heat of Central America's rain forest. But never when I was on the run, never when I had a child with me whose life depended on me to make the right decisions, and never when trying to evade not only the law, but someone just as adept as me at wilderness survival, out for my blood and for my daughter.

Instead of going joining Shelby in the shelter and climbing into my own sleeping bag, I sit on the creek bank and draw my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as my exhausted mind drifts for awhile. I think about Todd with an odd mixture of bitterness, fear, and pity, I think of how things ended between us, and finally, I wonder if by running I hadn't just made things exponentially worse for us all.

I could've just done what the authorities told me to do if Todd made good on his threats. Well, I did to start with, and look where it got me. The restraining order was the only thing the cops were able—by that, they meant  _willing_ —to do. I knew that it wouldn't be enough. A guy like Todd Dylan doesn't give any thought to a directive on a piece of paper, especially not when said piece of paper is issued by the government he's come to loathe because he served that government and ended up with a raging case of PTSD in the way of thanks.

At least, that's what I'd thought at first. PTSD was the logical conclusion that explained his erratic, paranoid, and violent behavior, and one he himself used to justify his actions, a handy crutch to use to his benefit and garner sympathy. The result, of course, is just that. He's a wounded vet, I was told time and again; we just can't see his scars.

Yes, PTSD might very well be a part of his problem, but it isn't the only cause. And discovering his secret, the real reasons my husband has become a monster, nearly got me killed.

No, Todd is no longer the man I fell in love with and married twelve years ago. The man I married wouldn't hold a gun to his wife's head and threaten to blow her brains out. He wouldn't beat her within an inch of her life, kidnap and hold her prisoner, and take from her the best thing to come from their ill-fated relationship.

A high yet mournful yip and howl of a coyote rouses me. I realize I've fallen asleep there on the creek bank, my back snug against the trunk of a tree. I sigh and wearily stand and make my way back to the shelter, checking out my surroundings as I go. This is not the ideal spot Shelby had picked out; I don't have the 360-view of our surroundings as I did at the other one. But this one doesn't have an unknown human being anywhere near it. He's a good mile or so away, if he's still alive at all. For a split second I wonder about that, and then dismiss it as unimportant. I've got bigger things to concern myself with, namely mine and Shelby's own survival. Some stranger who got himself into a jam while hiking isn't a blip on my radar.

_Dude ran us out of a perfect campsite and that's the only reason he matters. Otherwise? Not my problem._

I close my eyes, snuggle up against Shelby's lumpy form, and very quickly am deeply asleep.

What seems like minutes later, I'm shaken awake.

"Mom.  _Mom!"_

I crack one eye open. I can tell it's very early in the morning, before sunrise. Shelby's face is visible in the gloom, her dark eyes huge and her face full of tension. "Shel...", I murmur. "What is it?" All sorts of horrific possibilities permeate my sleep-addled brain then, and I sit bolt upright. "What's the matter? Is it your dad, or—"

Shelby shakes her head vigorously. "You gotta come help him. He needs help or he's gonna die."

"Huh? Who?"

"The man we heard last night. I found him, and we gotta help him. He's broken his leg and he got bit by a rattlesnake, and he's  _dying!"_

I grab both of Shelby's upper arms and give her a shake.  _"You went back there?"_

"I had to! I can't know there's someone hurt and not help him! I'm not like you!" She wrenches herself free. Then she scrambles for the opening of the shelter and crawls out into the misty pre-dawn morning.

"Shit," I groan, as my stomach twists itself into a knot. My daughter traipsed a good mile back in the dark alone to find this stranger, and God only knows who he is. Terror at what could've happened fights admiration at her fortitude. But still, it was stupid and reckless and showing herself to this person, injured or not, is a complication we absolutely cannot afford. I crawl out of the shelter behind her. "Shelby, is he conscious? Did he see you? Did you say anything to him? And what the hell are you doing?"

Shelby's arm-deep in my pack, which she must have dragged out while I was still asleep. She extricates the metal camo box that contains my medical kit, turns to me, and says, "I'm gonna try to fix him. Yes, he saw me. I told him I'm gonna try to help him. He said something funny to me about being the shortest and prettiest medic he's ever seen, and then he started to cry." She got to her feet. "Please help me help him. He's a nice man."

I sigh and run my fingers through my tangled hair. "How do you know he's nice?"

"He has really pretty blue eyes. I could see them even in the dark. They look like jewels. That's how."

I gape at her.  _Pretty blue eyes that look like jewels?_ Despite her wild and uncivilized upbringing, Shelby  _is_ capable of sounding like an ordinary girl.

She sets her chin stubbornly and repeats, "Please Mom, help me fix him. I don't know if I can do it myself. He said he tried to suck out the poison from the snakebite, but it looks horrible, he's feverish and kinda delirious." She turns and sets off toward the woods.

"Oh, God," I groan. I haven't had much experience with poisonous snakebites, but I do know how to treat them. Sucking out the poison is helpful, but not entirely effective. This guy needs an anti-venom antidote and fast. I always carry a supply. I shake out my boots and put them on. They're still damp from the day before and I grimace at the unpleasant sensation. Quickly I lace them tight and tie them. I grab my pack, sling it over my shoulder and I hurry to catch up with Shelby as I slide the sheath holding my knife into place on my belt. "Where's he bitten?"

"His right arm," Shelby answers. "Right about here." She points at her forearm, midway between wrist and elbow. "I guess he must be a musician or something."

Shelby's tiny even for her age, but she moves fast. Though my legs are much longer, I have to trot to keep up with her. "Why?"

"Cuz he said at least it isn't his hand or he wouldn't be able to play guitar for awhile. His arm's all swelled up like this." She blows her cheeks out for emphasis.

That doesn't sound good. A twinge of pity takes over and shoves aside some of the apprehension at showing myself to and helping this stranger. And I'm still furious, not to mention horrified, that Shelby snuck out of our camp alone to find the guy.

"Did you get a name?" I ask, adjusting my pack. I pat my knife, secured in its sheath on my belt and readily available. Just in case.

"He was kinda out of it when he told me his name. I couldn't make it out, but it starts with a J. Jer-something. All I heard was 'Jer' before he passed out. I checked his breathing and his pulse and then I ran back to camp and woke you up."

So. His name is Jer-something or other, with pretty blue eyes that look like jewels. He doesn't sound remotely familiar, or like anyone Todd's acquainted with. I've seen pictures of all of Todd's militia-type doomsday prepper buddies. This "Jer" doesn't fit the description of any of them.

"How old, would you say?" I venture after a long period of silent walking. Ahead, I spy the hillside and the cluster of trees around our previous attempt at a shelter.

Shelby shrugs, and I realize it's probably silly to ask an eleven-year-old to guess the age of an adult. "Older or younger than me and Dad?" I persist.

"Definitely younger than Dad, probably a few years younger than you," she says firmly and quickly.

Okay, then. "Jer" is almost certainly not someone in Todd's network, which consists mostly of guys his age, in their forties and up. I feel myself begin to relax. "Point the way," I murmur. But Shelby's already steered her way through the trees toward the cliff. I follow on her heels, keeping my ears open for any cries, though chances are good that "Jer" is either still unconscious or has possibly already succumbed to the snakebite.

Oh, God. If the guy's dead, I'm not sure how Shelby will handle it. I don't want to tell her of that possibility, but at the same time, I don't want her to be the one to find his corpse after all she went through to try to help him.

"Shelby," I whisper. I open my mouth to tell her to let me go first, but before I can, almost right next to me, I hear him moan.

Instantly my knife is unsheathed and in my hand, and I'm crouched down in a defensive posture with Shelby behind me.

"Mom! It's him! He's alive!" Shelby wriggles out from behind me. "But he's moved a little. He was up there before." She points at an outcropping of rock amidst some scrub oak several feet up the base of the cliff and hurries to the source of the voice.

"Fell a little, more like," comes the weak voice from behind a bunch of mesquite directly below the ledge. I can tell he's speaking through clenched teeth. That tells me he's aware enough to feel pain, which is good on a couple of levels. One, it means he's probably not too far gone to be saved, and two, I'll be able to ascertain once and for all if the man means us harm or not. No time better than now, while he's helpless and at my mercy, to get answers.

Ahead of me, Shelby crouches down. "How did you end up down here?" I hear her ask gently. I can see his prone body now, and one of his legs is twisted at an unnatural angle. The sight of it makes me cringe. I can tell it's a nasty break of his tibia, and the dark stain below the limb indicates it's likely a compound fracture. He's wearing shoes meant for rock-climbing, bright yellow in color. Multi-colored track pants with a red plaid flannel shirt that's halfway off of him, a t-shirt that's either pale blue or gray covers his torso. The odd combination make me wonder if the man is color-blind. Shelby's body, kneeling over him, conceals his face, and where he's wedged, between a couple of rocks and the mesquite trees, make it impossible for me to move around to see anything else of him.

"Thir-thirsty. Tried...to find...that water bo..bottle... you left me. Slipped...and...fell the rest of...the way." There's a soft rustle as the man tries to move. He gives a sharp gasp and moans again, and I wonder if the fall further shattered his leg. I also wonder why his voice rings a bell. Maybe I do know him after all. Though I don't recognize the description of pretty blue eyes, or the name. But maybe I answered the phone when this one called for Todd and that's why I recognize the voice. 

_It's a trick! This guy's gonna jump up and kill us both and I let Shelby lead us right to him!_

Then I look at the man's destroyed leg again.  _C'mon. That's a bit elaborate of a stunt, even for Todd._

Still..."Shelby, move away from him." My voice is tight and something clicks in my throat as I speak.

"It's okay. Don't try to move any more. My mom is right here and we're gonna help you." Shelby moves back and, taking a deep breath, I step forward, kneel down and look at the man's face for the first time. And then it's as if all the air in the universe got sucked into some black hole of unreality, an alternate universe, _something,_  because my mind cannot possibly process what I'm seeing right now. 

His eyes, which are every bit the brilliant blue Shelby described, meet my shocked and disbelieving stare as his name completes itself in my head.

_No wonder his voice is so familiar.  It's because I've heard it for years._


	2. Chapter Two

I can't speak. Not if my life depends on it, I cannot utter a single word.

And it's not only my mouth that's paralyzed; every inch of my body seems to be. Including my brain, which had begun plotting out how to treat the man's injuries during the walk if he turned out to be as harmless as Shelby claims. All the way here, I was calm and ready to take whatever immediate action necessary. But now, face to face with the man whose life depends on me to save it, I am frozen.

Yes, I've been living more or less off the grid for the last several years, yes, a beard covers a good bit of his features, but I recognize him immediately. Jared Leto. An A-list superstar of both film and music. Philanthroper, activist, and without question the most beautiful man I've ever seen in my life.

His eyes are still locked on mine, a mix of terror and pain swirling in their crystal-blue depths. His skin is deathly white, and his eyes are beginning to turn hazy and unfocused. A discordant, horrified part of my brain can see he's fading. But I still can't move or speak a word.

Shelby has crept up beside me, the medical kit in her hands, and she casts me an odd look as she murmurs, "Mom...why aren't you doing something?"

I have no answer for her. Panic and freeze-ups get people killed, and I've long since learned to conquer those base instincts in favor of more primitive, direct action ones. And yet here I am, gaping at Jared like an idiot while his life is draining away before my eyes.

It's not only because I'm overwhelmed by who it is I'm here to save. It's because I almost didn't.

_Last night I heard him cry out. I heard him, and I left anyway. I left him, I crawled into my sleeping bag and slept like a baby. If not for Shelby, he would have died a slow, agonizing death._

_Out here._

_Alone._

Oh, God.

"Mom!" Shelby hisses and gives me a little shake.

Words finally find their way out of my mouth. "I'm so sorry," I whisper. An unfamiliar burning begins behind my eyes and I realize I'm closer to tears than I've been in longer than I care to remember.

Jared tries to smile. He's holding on to consciousness by a thread, but he's smiling. There's blood behind his teeth and a little leaks from the corner of his mouth as he says "Sorry...for what? My stupidity?" His smile fades, he grimaces, and a thin bloody substance expels from his mouth.

The sight of it snaps me back into action. I have to move fast. I have to forget who and what he is and I have to focus. The bloody vomit means the venom has taken hold in his system, and if he doesn't receive the antidote immediately, his vital organs and central nervous system will begin to shut down. "Two vials of CroFab, Shelby," I instruct. "I need the bottle of saline, a betadine wipe, and a hypodermic. We've got to get this in him as fast as we can."  _And pray it's not too late._

Shelby opens the medical kit and finds the items I request. Jared's weaving in and out of consciousness and he barely flinches as I administer the two injections, trying to ignore the triad tattoo on the underside of his forearm, a stark black-and-white reminder of who it is lying here before me. The jaws of death are yawning open to receive him, and I have to put everything I've got into pulling him back from them.  _Forget about the tattoo. Forget about that night all those years ago. You have to focus, Lanie._ He  _needs you to focus, and do what you've been trained to do._

I inspect Jared's badly swollen forearm, in the center of which are the two deep puncture wounds of the snake bite, still leaking blood but clean, without the traces of venom mixed in that I'd expect to find. I can see that Shelby had cleaned the wound and in addition, she fashioned a splint with a couple of straight sticks, held in place with her socks. I admire her work, saying she did the exact thing she was supposed to. I'm finally in a place where I can be methodical and detached, until I catch sight of the triad tattoo again. Then I have to swallow hard and close my eyes for a moment before moving on to assess his broken leg.

As I carefully cut Jared's bloody pants leg from cuff to knee, Shelby's near his head, bathing his feverish face and neck with a piece of t-shirt she's torn off and wet with cold water from her insulated bottle. She pauses for a moment and frowns. "Mom, I think he passed out again," she murmurs. She places two fingers against the side of his neck. "And his pulse is weaker than it was." Her little face is pale and worried as she looks at me.

I pause my cutting as my stomach does a flip. I've done all I can do for the snakebite. If the CroFab isn't effective, or if, God forbid, it turns out Jared's actually allergic to it, there's nothing I'll be able to do to save him. I feel light-headed and ill at the thought. "It's okay, Shelby," I answer with a calm I'm far from feeling. "We have to give the antivenom time to work."

_You know if he doesn't make it, it's all on you. Had you gotten to him sooner...like last night, the moment you knew he was here and in trouble..._

I clench my teeth and finish cutting the pants. As the fabric falls away to reveal the swollen, discolored and twisted limb, I let out a little breath I didn't know I was holding. There's a deep four-inch laceration on the outside of his calf,  but there are no bones protruding through it. Thank God. Gentle poking and pressing-which elicits a very living groan which I'm thrilled to hear, despite the evidence of further pain I'm causing-leave me with the conclusion that the breaks of Jared's tibia and fibula are in fact single clean ones. It won't be easy, but I think I'll be able to set his leg without doing further damage.

A few minutes later, Shelby checks Jared's breathing and pulse once more. "I think it's stronger," she tells me. "His breathing is better. Deeper." Hope fills her eyes and I nod. Good. The CroFab might be already starting to take effect.

I'm hopeful that I can stabilize him. But Jared needs more than this primitive, basic wilderness first-aid, especially if the antivenom doesn't continue to work. In any case, I have to get him help. And I have to figure out a way to do it without exposing me and Shelby in the process.

"Does he have a cell phone on him?" I ask Shelby.

"No," Shelby answers. "I already checked earlier."

I sit back and look around. "He's got to have one. Maybe it fell out his pocket or something somewhere. Look up on that ledge where you found him."

Shelby gets up and climbs up to the ledge. "Not up here," she announces.

_Shit._  I sigh, and consider the options. Well, one thing I have to do is move him out of this tight space so I can work. There's no hope of creating an optimal and sterile environment anywhere, but I do have to get him to at least a cleaner one. Already dozens of flies are buzzing around his open wound, landing to feast on his bloodied pants. I wave them away impatiently. I'll have to fashion a travois of some kind, but first I'll have to find a way to stabilize his leg lest the jostling around of moving him causes the dreaded compound fracture that I know I won't be able to treat.

Damn it! In our haste to get here, I've left our sleeping bags at camp. I don't want to leave Jared, but I have no choice but to go back for them. When I voice the thought, Shelby offers to fetch them. 

"No. I can get there and back faster," I tell her as I prepare to leave.

Jared has slipped off into a semi-conscious state, but Shelby reports that his vital signs are continuing to improve. I nod, leaving her a few instructions should he awaken. Keep bathing his forehead, keep the snakebite below the level of his heart. "The two vials of CroFab will hold him for six hours. If..." I swallow hard... "if for any reason I'm not back, will you be able to give him the injections?"

Shelby nods. "I've watched it a lot. I can do it."

"If...if you need to, do you remember how to perform..." I can barely say it... "CPR?"

She nods, biting her lip. Her dark eyes cast downward at Jared's parchment-white face. "I can take care of him, Mom. Just hurry up."

"Okay." I cover Jared's leg and get to my feet. "I'll be back as soon as I can." Sheathing my knife again, I turn and head back to camp, the wild hammering of my heart having nothing to do with my running pace. 

It's because I know one immutable truth...that if Jared dies, it's because I'm the one who left him there all night. I wouldn't have come back if Shelby hadn't taken it upon herself to find him.

_If he doesn't survive, you'll be the one solely responsible for the death of Jared fucking Leto. The fact is,_ _Lanie, you went to sleep last night fully aware that you left another human being out here to die. This is the kind of person you've become._

_Yeah, I guess I have. Todd taught me well._

I run faster, and as I run I allow a few bitter tears to escape even as I reach into my right-hand coin pocket for the little triangle of plastic I've carried with me since that night at the Minnesota State Fair fourteen years ago. It's still there, the last vestige of the teenage girl I once was.

 

***

 

_I was eighteen years old that summer, in those days of carefree fun, partying, chasing guys, listening to music, and attending rock festivals whenever I could because outside of wilderness exploration, there was nothing like an open-air rock concert to make me feel alive. I'd graduated high school that spring, and was at the state fair representing our Orienteering club as its junior development coach._

_Someone had scored us free general admission tickets for the concert on the Grandstand the third night of the fair. A couple of sixteen-year-old girls from my team and I leaped at the chance to attend the show, and we quickly gathered at the gate for the best possible chance to get up front._

_I hadn't heard of the opening band, Thirty Seconds to Mars, but that didn't matter. I was excited to experience a live concert of modern, cutting-edge rock. Those were few and far between where I lived, where country music dominated the airwaves and classic rock bands of bygone eras dominated the few upstate festival  grounds._

_Clutching my comped ticket, I checked out the glass-encased poster near the Grandstand entry. Immediately my attention was drawn to the guy with sparkling blue eyes and arrow-straight blonde-streaked hair, cut in the currently popular emo-punk style._

_"Isn't that...oh, what's his name? That actor who played Jordan Catalano?" the shorter of the two orienteers, a skinny brunette named Liz asked._

_"Who?" I asked._

_"You know. That TV show._ My So-Called Life," _Shae, the redhead next to me answered. "Jared Leto. Holy shit, is he hot!"_

_"And single now. I hear he and Cameron Diaz are on the outs,"Liz supplied, her eyes gleaming. "Maybe one of us'll get lucky. I hear he likes to pick girls out of the crowd, if you know what I mean. Younger girls." She tapped the plexi-glass covered poster, indicating another guy next to Jared. "And I sure wouldn't kick his brother out of my bed, either."_

_The girls dissolved into giggles and I rolled my eyes at them. I liked to think I was above that crap. I was there for the music, and only for the music. However hot Jared Leto was, he also_ _was probably an ego-maniacal dick._

_Besides,_ _I already had a man...a_ real  _man, not some out-of-reach pretty boy rock star._ _Todd Dylan, a good looking guy pushing thirty and my high school crush since tenth grade, was the head orienteering coach in between deployments to the Middle East where he served in the Army as a recon specialist._ _I'd ridden to St Paul with him for the fair. Heavy flirting ensued, culminating in Todd making it official when he took my virginity out in the woods behind a rest stop._

_We got into the Grandstand and pushed and shoved our way to the front barricade. I had my camera ready, with Liz and Shae next to me practically hyperventilating with excitement. Admittedly I was too, even though I'd never heard this band before. The adrenaline rush of a rock concert, though...any rock concert...it's like nothing else in the world to me. I tried to keep my cool though, considering myself more mature than these two giggling twits I'd come with._

_The concert was incredible. I loved their sound, the energy, and Jared on stage was the hottest thing I'd ever seen and heard. I took dozens of photos, screamed myself hoarse, and found myself as mesmerized by Jared as Liz and Shae._ Holy shit, I have to look these guys up when I get home,  _I thought._

_It all happened toward the end of their set. The pushing and shoving I could deal with; I was thin and not very tall but I was strong and wiry and could hold my own; but somewhere behind us there in the pit a scuffle broke out and fists began flying. Security leaped into action, but not before I caught a blow to the side of my head that put me to the ground, dazed._

_Everything after that was a blur. I was being stepped on, kicked, and pummeled. I'd lost my camera somewhere, Shae and Liz were screaming for security. Escape was impossible; every time I tried to get up, I was knocked down again. Instinctively I curled up to protect as much of my body as I could against the assault from all directions, praying someone would put a stop to it before they killed me._

_Suddenly, a loud male voice permeated the chaos, and then someone was there, a strong arm around me and helped me to my feet. I brushed dirt and grass from myself, still dazed, aching from a hundred different blows from head to toe._

_"Take a step back everyone. Just one step back! Please!"_

_It was him. It was Jared. He was on the floor, right next to me, holding me up. I could smell his clean sweat, feel his racing heartbeat against my cheek._

_"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asked in my ear. He stepped back to look me over. "Christ, girl, you took a hell of a beating!"_

_I finally dared look straight at him, and his vivid blue eyes caught me and pulled me in like a tractor beam. Sweat rolled down his perfect face, beads of it on his upper lip, and I barely resisted the urge to take my thumb and wipe it away. His hair, falling over his forehead, was damp and disheveled. I could only stare at him, barely able to remember my own name as I thought,_ Photos really don't do this guy justice. Not by half.

_I kept on staring at him, and he asked again if I was okay._

_Somehow I found my voice, shaky and faint. "I...I think so."_

_Pulling me close to his side again, he lifted his other hand, and I realized he was still clutching a microphone. The band on stage was silent. Holy shit! This guy actually leaped into this seething crowd? Did he really stop the concert to rescue me from being crushed?_

_Still holding me, he spoke into the mike. "Listen, motherfuckers. We're all here to have a good time and get crazy. But I'd like to think the people who come to our shows look out for each other. Don't beat each other to shit, don't hurt each other, and if someone's in trouble, help them for Christ's sake! This girl here could've been killed! This isn't cool, this isn't what we're about, okay? So chill the fuck out, don't give security a hard time, dance, mosh...whatever you wanna do, do it, but take care of each other, a'ight?"_

_The crowd roared and Jared gave me a little squeeze. He stepped back, pressed something into my hand, and flashed me a brilliant smile before he leaped over the barricade and returned to the stage._

_Shae and Liz surrounded me instantly, both of them bug-eyed and open-mouthed. "Oh, My God!!!" Shae screamed. "Are you okay, Lanie? What did he give you?"_

_I looked down. It was a piece of paper, wrapped around something thin and flat. I opened it, and inside the folded paper was a silver guitar pick with a black and purple triad on each side. The paper read, "Show this note to the big bald guy next to the bus after the show."_

_Under that was a heart and his initials, JL._

_I looked up. Jared slung his guitar strap over his neck, and his eyes met mine. He nodded slightly and gave me a half-smile as the band started up again._

_I shoved both the note and the pick in my pocket without a word. Jared's eyes were still on me, even as he began playing the next song._

 

_***_

 

At camp, I roll both sleeping bags and secure them with elastic cords. I take the time to dismantle the shelter, spreading everything out in an effort to conceal any evidence we were there. I gather the water bottles from the creek and I head back to Jared and Shelby, the whole way fighting against a flood of memories, regret, and a nagging voice that wonders if anything might have changed had I made a different choice that hot August night in 2003.

Jared's condition is the same when I return, breathless, sweating, and exhausted after a two-mile run. It's mid-morning and the sun's climbed over the tree tops, the temperature in the eighties. Shelby's managed to remove Jared's flannel shirt, which she used to cover his leg. "There's so many flies," she explained.

I nod. "I know. We have to get him moved down to the shelter, so I can clean and stitch that cut, and set his leg." I grimace. "God, I wish I had something better to help with the pain."

"There's nothing?" Shelby asks. "No plants or anything you know of around here?"

I shake my head as I begin cutting a hole in the bottom of my sleeping bag. "Nothing anywhere near strong enough. There's clove oil concentrate in the kit, and that's the best I can do to numb him for the stitches."

 When I am finished fashioning a travois out of my sleeping bag and two long branches from an oak tree, I take two shorter branches, the straightest I can find, and lay them on either side of Jared's broken leg. He's awake again, and I warn him that what I'm about to do is going to hurt like hell. I don't know his personal pain threshold, but no matter what it is, this is going to be excruciating.

His eyes meet mine. "Do...what you...gotta do."

Taking a deep breath, I grasp his ankle and slowly, very slowly, begin to turn it. But I've barely moved it before Jared reacts.

_"Aaaah!"_  he screams, and his whole body trembles.

_Oh, God. Oh, shit._  "I'm so sorry," I say. "I'm being as gentle as I can." Beads of sweat drip from my face and I wipe it away with the bottom of my t-shirt.

"It's okay. It's okay," Shelby repeats over and over. Jared's head is in her lap and she's stroking his long tangled hair. "Try to breathe deep, that'll help."

Jared murmurs something unintelligible in response. He's crying. Cords of muscle and veins stand out in his uninjured arm as he tightens his hand into a fist.

"Shelby, do you know where my spare belt is? The inner pocket of my pack?"

"Yeah. You want me to get it?"

I look at Jared's pale face, his bared teeth clenched, his body quivering with silent sobs. "I want him to have something to bite down on."

Shelby reaches over and digs in my pack, pulling out the belt. She unrolls it.

"Open your mouth," I order him.

Slowly, he does, and Shelby slides the belt between his teeth.

"Okay, we're gonna go again, and I want you to bite down," I say. I grasp his ankle with one hand, the back of his calf with the other, and again start to turn it into place.

As I expect, Jared reacts instantly, biting down on the belt in his teeth as a high scream emits from behind it. "Try to hold him, Shelby!" I order as his body convulses and struggles. Clenching my own teeth, I keep going, and his cries lessen, and then silence completely. It seems to take hours as I patiently, slowly turn his leg until it's relatively straight, holding the bones in place with my other hand. Finally, I stop. "Okay. That's it. I'm done. I'm done. I'm going to tie the splint on now, but the worst is over." It's a lie. The worst isn't over by a long shot, but I don't want to tell him that.

"I think he passed out again, Mom," Shelby says.

I'm not surprised. His pain receptors overloaded, and that is probably the best anesthetic available to him. I can only hope he stays unconscious awhile so I can move him out of here and into the shelter, clean and stitch the lacerated flesh back together, and then set the bones properly.

But it's not only Jared's comfort that his unconscious state benefits. If he's awake and reacting to the pain as I treat his leg injuries, his heart rate will skyrocket, speeding the course of the snake venom through his system. He's only had enough CroFab to slow the venom's progression through his system, not stop it entirely, and keeping him calm and still is essential in between injections. I can't give him another dose yet, not until six hours have passed since the first.

_If he even makes it that long,_ an insidious voice in my head whispers.   


	3. Chapter Three

Shelby makes her way toward where I'm crouching at the creek, a makeshift fishing pole in one hand, a grin on her face as with the other hand she holds up a string of three nice-sized rainbow trout for my approval. "One for each of us," she says proudly. "I hope he will wake up and eat. Where do you want me to put them?"

I nod my head toward the flat rock nearby, situated half in and half out of the water. "I hope he'll wake up, too. I'll clean them as soon as I'm done washing these clothes," I tell her.

"Good, cuz I'm hungry," she says and lays the fish on the rock. One of them flops a little, its mouth opening and closing, gills flaring with indignation at its fate. "Oh, knock it off," Shelby admonishes and lays her hand over it. "You're not going anywhere except in my stomach." She turns to me. "Hey, I found lots of wild grapes where I was fishing. I ate some. I'll grab a bag and pick a whole bunch of them."

I perk up. Grapes would be good; dried into concentrated, nutritionally-packed raisins, even better for traveling. "Pick all you can carry," I advise.

Shelby scampers to her pack next to the hut and sets her fishing pole next to it. She grabs a cloth bag from the side pocket. "Back in a little bit," she calls over her shoulder before running back where she came from.

Smiling, I turn my attention back to my task, scrubbing Jared's bloodstained pants and grimy t-shirt. Undressing him had been a difficult task, especially easing the track pants down over his shattered, splinted leg, but it had to be done. Wringing out the clothes, I shake them out and carry them to a tree where they'll hang in the sun until they're dry.

I stop for a second to admire mine and Shelby's handiwork. I can't even properly call our new and improved accommodations a shelter. Made of heavier oak branches, the chinks caulked with creek mud mixed with dead grasses and weeds, this is more of a hut, roomy enough to stand up and move around in. I even fashioned a crude kind of bed so Jared could lay in greater comfort than my sleeping bag on the hard ground could provide. It's narrow, not even the width of a cot, but it's better than nothing.

The job was an exercise in frustration and patience. Furniture-making certainly isn't in my area of expertise. When in the wilderness, normally I don't bother with any sort of luxury beyond my durable, down-filled sleeping bag and, when I'm feeling particularly self-indulgent, a pillow — which is actually a t-shirt stuffed with cattail down and tied at the sleeves, bottom, and neck. While I'm sure a mat of woven cattail leaves secured to a narrow frame of oak branches is hardly the pampered comfort Jared's used to, it's certainly an improvement over the hard ground.

It's been almost forty-eight hours since we found him, some of the longest forty-eight hours of my life. When not working on building a better shelter and his bed, the majority of those hours I've spent sleepless, watching the rise and fall of Jared's chest, obsessively checking his pulse, monitoring his fever, double and triple-checking his leg to be sure the stitches are holding and the splint hasn't shifted.

Jared spent the majority of those hours either unconscious or in a rambling and mostly incoherent delirium. Though a blessing for him in the beginning while I stitched and properly set his leg, as the hours dragged on I began to get seriously concerned. The fever was burning him alive and without sufficient fluids, dehydration would prove as deadly as the snakebite nearly was. Desperately I forced water into him a few times; other times during periods of semi-lucidity, he willingly drank from a straw I fashioned out of a hollow water reed. He grimaced throughout, and only took in a couple of ounces at a time. I kept pushing it anyway. He needed quarts, not sips.

During those early touch-and-go hours, I'd sent Shelby out, expanding the search for Jared's cell phone. I couldn't imagine a celebrity of his caliber venturing anywhere without his phone. But then, I never thought anyone of Jared's status would come out to a remote area like this by himself in the first place. Aren't famous people always surrounded by bodyguards, assistants, and handlers, even during their down time? I decided if Shelby found his phone and there was any battery life left in it, I'd make the call. And then at the first sign of rescue arriving, Shelby and I would vanish. We'd strike out to the northwest, deeper into the pine forested foothills. It's the opposite direction of our ultimate destination of Mexico, but that can't be helped.  I'm holding onto the hope that Jared won't remember much of anything about us.

But Shelby returned empty handed after combing the area for a couple of hours, and I've now given up on the search. Two nights have passed. If Jared did have a phone and dropped it somewhere, its battery would almost certainly be dead by now.

Jared's horrendous fever finally broke very early this morning, and he slept peacefully through the night. Now that I can leave his side for a longer period of time, I'll have to summon help for him another way.

It's breezy this morning, with fine sand, white down from the cottonwood trees, and goldenrod pollen flying everywhere. As I duck through the low doorway, I rub the grit from my eyes. I straighten up and meet his wide-awake gaze, glowing brilliant blue even in the dim light inside the hut.

_Like jewels._

For a moment, I just stand there staring at him like I did two mornings ago, unable to move or say a word. I've gotten accustomed to his presence, at least while I was frantically working to save his life, when he was unconscious and those eyes weren't piercing right through me. But now he stares back, unblinking, a half-smile playing at his perfectly chiseled lips.

"Hello," he says. His voice is groggy and weak, but he's completely lucid and alert for the first time.

"J—uh, hi," I stammer. "You're awake. I mean, really awake."

Jared's eyes leave mine and they sweep around the hut. "I'm not quite so sure of that. Where the hell am I? What is this place? I feel like I stepped into a time warp to about 10,000 B.C." His eyes meet mine again, then survey me head to toe. "Except you're wearing jeans and a t-shirt."

"I built it this after we found you. My daughter and I did, actually." I slowly approach him, wondering why I'm so nervous all of a sudden. I mean, I've been taking care of this man, I've undressed him, bathed him, stitched him back together, but now I feel clumsy and foolish. It's because he's awake, he's Jared Leto now, not just an injured and very sick man.

"Your daughter." A deep line forms in his perfectly smooth forehead as he frowns. "Yeah, I remember a kid finding me. A little girl with her hair in braids. I thought I dreamed it. She's your daughter?" Then his expression clears. "Yeah. Of course she is. She looks a lot like you." He shifts a little, and sucks in a hiss of pain. "Christ...my leg...hurts like a motherfucker."

I kneel down next to him. "I'm sure it does. Just relax. You broke both your tibia and fibula bone. Your leg's in the best splint I could fashion for you, but you can't move too much or you'll displace the bones again."

"Oh. Wow. Fuck." The words hiss from between his dry, cracked lips. "I really did it, didn't I. I'm gonna be out of commission for a hell of a lot longer than I planned to be."

"They were clean breaks, and with surgery, they'll heal well. You also have a nasty gash on your leg, which took twenty-eight stitches. The snakebite is what worried me. I had to use all my antivenom."

"Snakebite. Oh, yeah. Shit," he groans. He slides his arm out from under the sleeping bag and glances at it. The swelling has gone down, but the area around the bite is still red and tender. He studies it for a moment, and then returns his gaze to me. "Who are you? A nurse? A modern-day Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman? Maybe an angel?"

"No to all of the above," I examine the bite wound, not looking at him. "It's mildly infected, and so is the cut on your leg. I used aloe for a topical, and colloidal silver by mouth—"

"What's your name?" Jared interrupts.

I tear my eyes away from his arm and study the ground beneath me. I take a deep breath and reply quietly, "I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

I shake my head. "I just can't. But now that you're awake, I can finally ask you why you're out here alone, and without a phone."

He's staring at me, a deep, penetrating stare that I can feel without even looking at him. "That's a long, complicated story. Could I possibly have something to drink first? My throat's on fire."

Quickly I get up and fetch a bottle of water in the corner of the hut. I uncork it and reach under his head to lift it as he drinks. "Take it easy, not too much at once," I admonish as he chugs it like a camel, and then sputters and coughs. A little water dribbles into his beard and I automatically wipe it away with the tail of my t-shirt.

Jared's hand shoots out and takes my wrist, and I jump a little. His hold is gentle but firm. His eyes widen with an indiscernible emotion in them. "I get the impression you don't know who I am. Do you?"

He must realize that I know who he is. I feel as though it's written all over my face. Jared studies me, shaking his head. "Wow. This is odd. You really don't know who I am. That's why I'm waking up here in this...this wigwam, and not in the hospital." He releases my wrist then, but his eyes are glued to my face.

I flush under that close scrutiny. "No, it's not that, it's just that I—"

"Hey.  _Not_  that I'm complaining," he adds quickly. He pulls the sleeping bag aside and glances down at himself, clad only in a pair of deep blue boxer briefs. "Looks to me like you knew what you were doing, and you did one hell of a job." Despite the pain he must be in, his eyes sparkle a little and his grin reappears. "But when a beautiful woman takes my clothes off, I make it a point to at least know her name." He puts out his hand. "I'm Jared."

_Did he just call me beautiful? What the actual...?_

I have no idea how I look right now—the only point of reference I have is my distorted, rippled reflection in the creek, but I can guarantee that  _beautiful_  wouldn't be a word to describe it, even if I hadn't been spending a week out in the brush. I've been blessed with an immunity to sunburn after so much time spent outdoors, but I do have a deep-seated tan that only fades slightly in the winter months. I'm sure my face as well as my clothes are filthy, and my long dark blonde hair sports dreadlocks I've worn for years. They're easier to deal with when you live the lifestyle that I do.

_Unique, maybe. But...beautiful?_

"This is the part where you thank me for the compliment, shake my hand and in turn, you tell me your name," Jared prods gently, his hand still extended.

I hesitate, biting my lip. Maybe I can convince him to keep his mouth shut once rescue arrives, hopefully within a few hours. Will he? I have no idea, and no way of knowing for sure. Other than his music and movies, I know nothing about Jared Leto, the man, other than he risked his own life and limbs to stop me from being killed fourteen years ago— an event he almost surely doesn't remember, but one I've never forgotten.

"I..." I glance at the doorway of the hut. "I have to check on Sh—my daughter." I get to my feet. "She caught some trout for your breakfast, and she's picking some wild grapes she found."

"Trout. As in  _fish?"_ Jared pulls a face. "I appreciate the effort, but I eat nothing with a face."

I stare down at him. "What?"

"I'm a vegan," he explains patiently. "That means no meat, no dairy, no eggs."

I blink stupidly. I know perfectly well what vegan means, but I can't help looking at Jared's beautifully sculpted, tight, toned body as I absorb this information.  _A vegan diet produced this near-perfection?_

Finally, I find my voice, and I inject as much assertiveness as I can into it. "You can't be picky out here, Jared. You have to eat what's available, and right now what's available is fish."

"And wild grapes, you said."

"You need to eat more than wild grapes." I sigh, and add, "Besides, I fed you fish broth when you were out of it, so what's the difference if you eat it now?"

He turns a trifle green.  _"I ate fish broth?"_

I can't help but smile. "Well, technically, you  _drank_  fish broth. You needed nutrition to help fight the infection. You still do."

Jared closes his eyes and I see his throat work as he swallows hard. "If there was anything in my stomach, I'm pretty sure I'd puke." When I don't answer that, he opens his eyes. "Well, Dr. Quinn, I'll make a deal with you. You tell me your name and your story, and I promise I'll try to eat the fish."

With only the briefest hesitation, I nod. "You got yourself a deal."

"One thing..." Jared looks decidedly uncomfortable. "I...uh, I have to piss. How?" he gestures at himself.

"Oh." I go to the corner of the hut and pick up another bottle, this one empty. I open it and bring it to him. "You might need some ...um... help with this," I stammer, feeling my cheeks flame up. While caring for him I've seen pretty much all of Jared, but oh God, this is awkward now, with him awake and aware.  _More_  than awkward. For both of us.

"I've got it." He takes the bottle and when I stand there uncertainly, still ready to offer assistance, he stares up at me. "No offense, but I've never been able to piss in front of a beautiful woman. I clamp up tight. It's a weird reflex or something. Could I have some ... privacy, please?"

_There's that word again. Beautiful._

"Oh...sorry...yeah, okay. Set it on the ground when you're done and I'll empty it when I come back." My cheeks flaming hot now, I turn and quickly flee the hut. 

I return to the creek and the messy task of preparing the fish. Despite my discomfiture, I smile to myself as I expertly scale and clean the trout. Jared's offered deal will work to both of our benefit. He'll eat some much-needed nutritious food, thereby setting my mind at ease. Then, as soon as we gather our things, I'll throw cut green branches and fresh leaves on the fire, creating clouds of thick smoke that'll be visible for miles. Then Shelby and I will vanish, our anonymity at least somewhat intact. 

He'll tell those who respond that a woman and a child kept him alive, true. He'll be able to give them a description of us, yes. But I'm hopeful that in the little amount of time we have left I'll convince him to fudge those details, and that I'll manage to do so without having to explain the reason I need him to lie.

Shelby returns with her bag overflowing with juicy purple grapes as I finish cleaning the fish. I throw the entrails into the creek where they'll be devoured by their brethren. I wash my knife and my hands, and then wrap the fish in wet leaves I've liberally dosed with salt and lemon grass from my supply of herbs.

"He's awake," I tell her as I point the tip of my knife at the hut.

"Like,  _really_  awake?" Shelby asks. Her eyes brighten. "So he's getting better. He's going to be okay."

I nod. "He's strong and healthy. He'll be fine once he gets medical attention." I look at the bag of grapes. "Don't bother with laying any of them out to dry. We're not going to be here long enough. We'll take what's left after breakfast with us."

Shelby frowns. "Where are we going? Jared can't move."

I sit back on my heels. "After breakfast, I'm going to keep the fire going. I'm putting a bunch of green stuff in the fire so it'll smoke. Then we'll leave. People will see the smoke, and they'll come and rescue him. You know we have to keep moving, Shelby. We've been here too long as it is."

Shelby's face is downcast. "I know. But—" she looks at the hut and shuffles her feet. "I like Jared. He's nice, and I think he still needs us. Maybe he'll want to help us, since we helped him."

 _No. That score's even now, even if he doesn't remember it._ "You don't even know him," I point out.  _"We_  don't know him. Besides, we don't need anyone's help."

Shelby scowls. "Everyone needs help sometimes. You always say that when you help me with stuff."

"Yeah, but _I_  don't need help," I snap, a little harsher than I intend. "Wash those grapes, put them in the big bowl and mix a little sugar with them. Just a little sugar, and bring them in for Jared. Then I want you to get your sleeping bag rolled up and your stuff ready to go. Okay?"

Shelby's lips tighten, and then she sighs. "Okay."

Near the creek, I create a fire ring of rocks. In the circle I lay dry grasses and leaves for a tinder nest. Then I grab my fire board and spindle from my pack. Setting the spindle in the hole in the wood, with the tinder nest bunched around it, I begin the task of quickly spinning the stick until first an ember, and then a small flame fires up, igniting the tinder nest. When it's burning well, I lay dry kindling criss-cross over it, and then some bigger dry branches.

Thin white smoke rises, lazy wisps at first, and then in bigger puffs. I lay a long flat rock over the fire to use as a plank to cook the fish on, and return to the hut while I wait for the rock to heat.

Shelby's in there, sitting next to Jared's bed and sharing her grapes with him. Both turn to look at me as I step inside. Instantly Shelby starts to fidget, and her expression tightens.

"Lanie," Jared says with a little smile. "Your name suits you."

I cast a horrified look at Shelby. "You told him my  _name?!_  Why the hell did you tell him my  _name?!_ "

"No, no, no. Don't get mad at her," Jared says. "What's the big deal, anyway?"

"Goddammit!" I yell at Shelby, who covers her face with her hands. "Do you  _want_ to go back to your dad? Kidnapping is a felony. You know they'll put me in jail. Is that what you want?  _Is that it?"_

"No!" Shelby screams back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it! It..it just came out!" She lets out a sob, and then races from the hut. I turn to follow her, but Jared's voice stops me.

"Whoa, wait a second," he says, and I turn. He's staring at me with narrowed eyes. With a sickening thud in my gut, I realize I've just given him a whole hell of a lot more information than Shelby has. He holds up a hand. "Is this true? You kidnapped your daughter from her father?"

"You don't know the circumstances," I snap, my defenses roaring to life. "Jesus. The first person we've spoken to since Winslow, and she's running her mouth to him!" I pace the small enclosure. "They'll find us... _he'll_ find us...and then..." panic encircles my heart. I go to the doorway and call at Shelby, standing at the fire with her back to me, "We're leaving now! You need to come get your stuff together, and I mean right  _now!"_  I kneel and begin rolling up Shelby's sleeping bag, and then I turn to Jared. "The fire's going good enough. I'll put on plenty of green wood so it'll smoke. Someone will see it very soon, and they'll come and find you. You'll be fine."

Jared's still staring at me. "Stop, Lanie," he says. His voice is still groggy and weak, but something in it carries an unmistakable command, the same quality I remember when he stood beside me on the grandstand grounds, holding onto me while ordering the raging crowd back with nothing but his voice. "You need to stop and tell me what the hell is going on with you. Why you kidnapped your own kid, for starters."

"I..." my own voice is failing me the longer Jared pins me down with that ice-blue, laser-like glare. Swallowing hard, I shake my head. I owe him no explanation, but my mouth seems determined to move of its own accord. "I swear. It's not how it sounds." I hate the way my voice trembles, but I am powerless to stop it. Softly I add, "I'm not the bad guy here, Jared."

His tone softens, too. "Then talk to me. It's obvious that little girl is with you willingly, so I'm guessing there had to be a damn good reason you took her from him. Tell me."

I can't tear away from Jared's penetrating stare. I don't know what kind of power this man possesses, but despite the strident voice inside me ordering me to shut my mouth, to finish packing, grab Shelby and run like hell, I know I'm going to stay right here and I'm going tell him everything.


	4. Chapter Four

Well, not quite.

Not everything. Jared assumes I don't know who he is, and for some reason I can't fathom, I've decided to go along with it. I think maybe because he takes a strange kind of comfort in being viewed as just Jared, a man, not a superstar. I don't know.

"It's a long and ugly story. I'll give you the very condensed version. The details are better told when—"I gesture out the doorway— "Shelby's not listening to every word. I mean, she knows quite a bit, obviously, but..."

Jared shakes his head. "I get it. So, you're not running out on me, then?"

I flop down beside his bed and sigh. "Todd's hunting us down, and staying in one place like this for two nights already, we're sitting ducks. For him, or for his militia friends." I glance at him. "And he doesn't like loose ends."

Jared got my meaning all too well, I could see it in his eyes, in the sudden tightness of his mouth that had nothing to do with pain. "He's militia?"

I nod. "Ex-army, paranoid, ruthless, and a drug addict. Meth."

"Oh, shit. 'Nuff said, I think." Jared reaches out with his injured right arm and puts a hand on my shoulder. "That's why you took Shelby. But how the Christ did a guy like him get custody in the first place?"

I throw Jared a hard, thin smile. "By default. I wasn't at the custody hearing."

Jared's eyes widen. "Why not?"

My own eyes close as I remember that horrific night, being yanked out of bed, gagged, a hood pulled over my head, rough hands dragging me out of my house and flinging me into a car. I tried to fight, to scream, kick, claw, until bright light exploded behind my eyes and I knew nothing more until I awoke locked up in a windowless, cement-walled, steel-doored place I'd never seen before. Looking around, I knew in an instant what it was. It was a bugout bunker, one of many I suspected Todd had, but at least this one hadn't been turned into a meth lab like two others I'd learned had been. There was dehydrated food, water, a single-burner sterno stove, a cot, and a toilet.

"He  _kidnapped_  you and put you in a...a bunker?" Jared's voice is softly incredulous.

"Exactly. I was there for three nights, I think. Maybe more, but I had no way of knowing without seeing daylight." I draw my knees up to my chin. There's more, much more, but I clam up. Not with Shelby only several yards away, sitting out by the fire poking morosely at it with a stick. I need to go talk to her, and I will. I need to apologize.

"How did you get out of there?" Jared wants to know.

"Grouse hunters," I answer. "They stumbled on the bugout shelter, heard me inside trying to work on the ventilation pipe, trying to pry it loose. I remember thinking it was pointless, because the ventilation pipe's only about eight inches in diameter, so I sure couldn't crawl out, but I kept at it anyway just for something to do. They heard me banging on the pipe and realized someone was inside. As soon as I knew it wasn't Todd or any of his friends, I screamed for help.

"I begged them not to call the cops because then they'd go looking for Todd, and then he'd know I'd gotten out of there and he would take Shelby and run. So one of the hunters called his brother, a locksmith, to come out and unlock the door.  They brought me into the hospital to be checked out because I was...well, I was pretty banged up." I wrap my arms around my legs tighter. "A nurse at the hospital lives not too far from me. I waited until she got off work at eleven and caught a ride home with her. Then I packed mine and Shelby's gear, and then I went to Todd's trailer, got my daughter, and we ran." I gaze out the door. 

"Jesus," Jared murmurs. His hand on my shoulder squeezes a little. "I know there's plenty you're not telling me, but that's okay. I get the picture." His hand moves away. "But Mexico? Do you really think it's come to leaving the U.S. and sneaking over the border to a foreign country?"

I shrug. "I don't see what other option we have. Todd's got a network of militia friends everywhere. Even here in Arizona. Which is why staying in one place like this is stupid."

"You don't mention your parents. Where are they?"

I take a ragged breath. "Dead. My mom died of leukemia when I was four, and my dad who raised me was killed in a hunting accident a couple of years ago."

Jared doesn't say anything to this. The silence draws out long and heavy, until finally I look at him. He's staring straight back, unblinking. "What?" I ask.

"I'm so sorry, Lanie. My father died when I was eight, I hardly knew him. But my mom and I are still really close. I can't imagine losing her."

I smile. "Be glad you have her."

"Believe me, I am. My mom and my brother, Shannon, are my world."

"I'm sure they'll be very happy to have you home safe," I say. 

"They didn't even know I left until after I got to Sedona and called Shannon. He was pretty pissed that I took off alone, but I kinda had to. I needed some space to think, to get...some stuff right in my head."

"What kind of stuff?" I want to know.

"Just...I don't know. A lot of shit piled up, and it spilled over from my professional life to my personal one which was already in a massive upheaval, and I knew I needed to get out of town and get my head on straight. But listen...we're not talking about me right now. We're talking about you. What if I said you have another option than running with your kid to Mexico? A better option, and for damn sure a  _safer_  option?"

"Like what?" I frown. I've thought of damn near everything, but every avenue seems to have a dead end, inevitably resulting in my arrest for kidnapping and felony transport of a minor across state lines and either Shelby's return to Todd, or being put in some foster home.

Slowly, Jared says, "I can take you to my place in California. I'll keep you both safe, Lanie. Safe from him, and safe from the authorities until this gets straightened out."

My breath catches in my throat. "Oh, no. I can't ask you to get involved in this mess, Jared. It wouldn't be good for your ca—for you."

"Why? Because this asshole you married is ten feet tall and bulletproof?" Jared shakes his head and a little smile forms on his lips. "Trust me, I've dealt with all kinds in my life. I...well, let's just say I'm not just some dumb schmuck who went rock-climbing and had an accident. I mean, I am and I did, but I live a pretty secure lifestyle most of the time. And anyway, it'd be nice to have someone around again who treats me like a mere mortal." He pats my shoulder. "Go talk to Shelby, clear the air with her, and give my offer some thought."

"Jared—"

"Go. Shelby's waiting for you. I can see it in the way she's just sitting there, poking that stick into the fire."

I slowly rise and go outside, my mind in a tornadic whirl of confused disbelief. I can't. I can't even consider it. What the hell is Jared thinking? Bringing me and Shelby  _home_  with him? To Hollywood? Is he  _nuts?_  He's a goddamned A-List  _celebrity!_ With high-powered rich friends, associates, producers, band-mates, co-stars, managers and assistants!

And a girlfriend, undoubtedly. Or probably lots and lots of girlfriends. Models and actresses who dress impeccably and have spa treatments and weekly manicures. None of whom would appreciate the presence of a bedraggled woodland creature and her equally untamed daughter in the mix.

Shelby has let the fire die down to coals and has begun cooking the fish. She's tending them carefully, and as I watch, she uses the stick to turn them over so they'll cook on the other side.

"So...I guess we're not leaving. Not right away, anyway," I begin.

Shelby throws a quick glance at me. She favors me with a tiny smile and I return it as she visibly relaxes a little. "Good," she says. "It wouldn't be right to leave Jared here alone."

"I figured you'd say that," I comment as Shelby moves the three fish around on the rock so they'll cook evenly. It's abundantly clear that for some reason she's formed an attachment to Jared, a kind of protectiveness I can only attribute to the fact that she'd been the one to go find him that night. Something I'd refused to do, a fact that continuously gnaws away at the periphery of my mind. "Look, Shelby—I'm sorry I yelled at you." My voice is soft as I sit next to Shelby and stare at the glowing coals. "I totally overreacted."

She stares straight ahead, studying the coals, too. "It's okay. I just..." now she looks up at me. "I really don't think Jared would do anything to hurt us, Mom."

I sigh. "Yeah. I don't think he would, either. But Shelby, we have to be really careful from now on, okay? Just until we cross into Mexico. Once we're there, we can relax, we can be around other people and speak freely. I promise."

"I miss Hannah and Grace down the road. I want friends again. I want a house, with my own room. I want to keep going to school with other kids. Dad said I have to be homeschooled."

My throat tightens as I see the sadness in Shelby's face. She's growing up, I realize. Running wild in the woods, learning and practicing her survival skills was fine when she was little...there was plenty to do and learn and she loved every minute of it, and playing with the few kids living nearby, like Hannah and Grace Olson, twin girls who'd been Shelby's best friends. She's a pre-teen now, with all the wants and needs of a pre-teen girl. I seem to have forgotten that, somehow.

"You'll have lots of friends," I assure her. "And a house with your own room. And you'll go to school. I promise, we'll make that happen once we're settled in someplace."

Shelby frowns. "Dad says schools are run by the Illuminati and they're brainwashing the kids into joining the New World Order, and that's why I can't go anymore."

I heave a tired sigh, wondering if Shelby knows what some of those big words even mean. "Shelby, your dad's not well. He's sick and he needs a doctor."

Shelby looks at me. "That's exactly what he said about you. He said that's why I had to come live with him, because you were sick and crazy and got locked up in a loony bin."

I close my eyes, hatred for my ex-husband like a blackness, dark and foul, that threatens to come vomiting from the depths of me.

But before I can think of a proper response, Shelby announces, "I think the fish are done." I check one of them and confirm it. My mouth is watering; I've barely eaten in the last couple of days and I'm completely ravenous. I get one of the little tin pans from my pack and Shelby lays the biggest trout on it. "For Jared," she says, grinning. "I hope he likes it."

 _Doubtful,_  I think.  _But vegan or no vegan, he's gonna eat it whether he likes it or not. A deal's a deal._

Shelby helps herself to another leaf-wrapped fish and settles in at the base of an oak tree by the creek while I bring Jared his breakfast. I gently help him sit up in bed a little, and he stares at me warily as I hold out the plate in my hand. He stares at it, then at me, his nose wrinkling with distaste. Before he can say a word, I remind him of his promise.

"Yeah, but—"

"Eat," I command, and thrust the tin plate into his hands.

He stares up at me querulously. "Lanie, this is disgusting. It stinks. No offense."

"None taken. Eat," I repeat. "Shelby will be very disappointed if you don't. And I won't be happy, either. Don't forget who brings you your pee bottle."

Jared throws me a mutinous look, and then slowly unwraps the browned leaves encasing the fish. Some of the skin comes off with the leaves, exposing the meat and bones underneath. "Oh, my God," he groans, and grows paler still. "This has got to be the grossest thing I've ever seen."

"Hey. At least I was nice enough to cut the head off before I served it to you," I point out.

Jared blanches at this. "Gee, thanks. Lanie, seriously. I don't know if I can do this." He looks up at me beseechingly, but I cross my arms, refusing to react to his wide-eyed puppy-stare.

Sighing, he picks at the fish, finally using his fingers to pull a respectable chunk of meat from the bones. "Only because I'm starving, and I don't break my promises," he mutters. With a shudder, he puts the piece of fish in his mouth. I watch him chew, then swallow. He looks up at me, eyebrows raised.

"What?" I ask.

"I'll say this much. It tastes better than it smells."

"Fish usually does," I say. "Eat up. You need it."

Slowly, Jared picks at the fish and eventually eats a fair bit of it. It's clear he's not enjoying the meal, and I feel a little wretched at his obvious displeasure, but he's getting much-needed food into his system and that's all that matters.

When he's finished, I take his plate and help him settle back down on his bed before going out and enjoying my own breakfast...head and all.

I spend the day close to camp, checking Jared's leg, encouraging him to eat more grapes and drink all the water he can. When he needs to pee, I bring him the bottle and leave the hut to give him privacy.

While Shelby is foraging in the woods nearby, I empty my pack, check our dehydrated food supply and the medicine kit — both of which are depleting faster than I like. It can't be helped, of course, but I will have to stock up on provisions before Shelby and I can go much further. I don't have a whole lot of money left, either. I re-organize my things and set my pack down next to me, sighing wearily.

I know I'm keeping myself busy because I don't want to think about our earlier conversation. The very abridged version of what happened with Todd, and then Jared's insane offer which I  _really_  don't want to think about. How the hell would he explain me and Shelby to all of these important, rich, beautiful people that are part of his circle? And that's just for starters.

Later, while I'm changing the dressing on Jared's leg, Shelby comes into the hut with more grapes and another bag containing a half dozen large white puffballs. She presents them to Jared with a huge grin.

He stares into the bag. "Mushrooms...?"

"Uh-huh," she says, her grin widening. "Puffballs!"

He cocks a skeptical eyebrow. "You're sure they're safe to eat?"

"Yeah! They're yummy!" she enthuses. "You soak them in salt water and then you can eat them raw or cooked."

Jared casts a dubious look at me. "Really? You're absolutely sure? I mean, there are a lot of poisonous mushrooms."

I smile. "Puffballs are perfectly safe. Shelby's been picking and eating these since she was a toddler. Trust her." I'm pleased when he smiles and nods. "Mushrooms have plenty of good nutrition. They also work well as a natural antibiotic. Where'd you find these, Shelby?"

"I had to walk a ways. I also found a mesquite tree with pods that are brown already." She digs in the bag of mushrooms and pulls out a couple. "I grabbed all I could reach. These are good, too, aren't they?"

"Definitely," I agree. I turn to Jared. "Extremely nutritious and have medicinal properties. Well, Jared, it looks like you've had your last fish."

Jared's smile turns into a soft laugh. "It wasn't that bad, but thanks. I appreciate all of this, Shelby. And when we get out of here, kid, I'm gonna buy you the biggest ice cream cone you've ever had. Any flavors and toppings and sprinkles you could ever want."

Shelby's eyes widen and turn dreamy. "Ice cream. I haven't had good ice cream since Mom made some with wild strawberries last year. It was so good, Mom got fresh milk from the old Peterson couple down the road, the kind with cream that rises to the top, you know? and...."

As Shelby prattles on about my homemade wild strawberry ice cream, I meet Jared's eyes. His are calm, but there's something in them that tells me he won't be reasoned with. I can't argue with him, not with Shelby right here enraptured with the idea of a giant ice cream cone. But if Jared Leto thinks we're coming out of the brush with him just like that, he's got another think coming.

That night, Shelby is slow to settle into bed. She's been an uncharacteristically chatty magpie all day, especially with Jared. She soaks, and then slices and roasts the puffball mushrooms on the flat rock over the fire. She grinds the mesquite pods into a coarse meal, sprinkles it with water, and shapes it into two small cakes, which she bakes and then serves to Jared with the mushrooms. He eats his dinner with gusto and finishes it off with several handfuls of grapes, declaring Shelby the best little open-fire chef in the world. Shelby grins hugely at this, enormously flattered. She even giggles and blushes, for God's sake.

I watch all this, bemused and shaking my head. My daughter is enchanted by Jared; not that I or most of the female populace can blame her, but she's a little eleven-year-old tomboy who grew up running around in the woods, and she has absolutely no idea who Jared Leto even is.

But it's obvious that Jared's got a raw magnetism; anyone of any age is susceptible to it, to the undeniable charisma that's glaringly evident even while laid up in a mud and stick hut, immobile, without a proper bath and unshaven for days. This only strengthens my resolve that we need to go our separate ways, and the sooner the better. Before I find myself as attached to him as Shelby's become.

_Too late. You already are._

_Bullshit._

Finally, Shelby drifts off to sleep, snug in her sleeping bag on the far side of the hut. I light a single candle to check Jared's leg, applying more aloe gel to the cut and I give him a healthy dose of colloidal silver, which he swallows with a grimace. "Tastes like metal," he grumbles.

"That's because there's silver in it. It's a terrific antibiotic at this strength. Very powerful, very effective. Doesn't cause stomach upsets or diarrhea."

Jared blanches suddenly. "Oh, my God. I...haven't thought of that. Now that I've eaten, well...things are going to function. How..." he turns away, clearly embarrassed. "I can't get up to go myself."

"It's a normal bodily function," I assure him, my tone light and brisk. "No need to be embarrassed about it."

"No. Hell, no. I can't ask or expect you to help me. For fuck's sake, Lanie. Leave a man a  _tiny_  bit of dignity."

"Seems to me you don't have much choice. If you need help, I'm here to help you. It's not a big deal." I try to be matter of fact about it, because it  _is_  a normal bodily function. But Jared's flushed and refusing to look at me now. I set the candle down on the ground in front of me and scoot close to his bed, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Jared, listen...I've seen it all. I've done it all. Believe me. You're making more of this than there is."

He passes a hand over his face and sighs heavily. "No, I'm really not," he mumbles. "I know you're coming from a medical perspective and you can't understand what this is like, especially for someone of my...well...status. It's sure another lesson in humility, though, and maybe that's exactly what I've needed. Maybe that's what all of this is about. A big cosmic kick in the ass back down to earth."

I think about that for a minute. Is that why Jared came out here to Oak Creek Canyon alone? To get away from celebrity, to breathe, to have a chance to be real again? I know nothing of the life of a famous person, but it seems reasonable that when one lives in the fishbowl of fame long enough, even the most grounded individual might eventually buy into his own hype and lose a good portion of himself along the way. He might think himself impervious to the pitfalls we ordinary mortals encounter during this thing called life in the real world. A celebrity may come to think he's invincible, until a fall shatters a bone, or a chance encounter with an ill-tempered diamondback rattlesnake delivers a potentially lethal dose of venom. Or both.

"So...you've had all day to think it over. Tell me you and Shelby will come out of here with me, Lanie." His hand is on my shoulder again.

My skin where he touches me burns, and his direct gaze holds me captive as it did earlier when he fixed it on me with that intensity, a sensation that felt like he was looking directly into me. His face bathed in candlelight takes my breath away and threatens to send my thoughts scattering in a million pieces, or in a direction they definitely have no business going. Valiantly I try to hold it together. "I...I don't know," I choke out in a whisper. "We really don't know each other, and like I said before, Todd...he's relentless...he's dangerous..."

"He won't be able to touch you," Jared's voice is also a whisper, and I pretend it doesn't send an electrifying tingle through me. "Either of you. He won't come anywhere near you. I swear. Light that signal fire in the morning, and wait with me until help arrives. Please."

I take a deep breath, and Jared's hand on my shoulder becomes a soothing caress. I dare meet his eyes in the flickering candlelight again. "I...I still have to think about it. I have to think of what's best for Shelby."

"It'll be great for Shelby. I have a big house. Huge. I haven't even seen the whole thing yet, to be honest. It's like fifty thousand square feet."

I laugh. "Yeah, okay." But looking at him, I realize he's serious. "Wait...you're not kidding?" I ask weakly.

"Swear on my life. It's in the Laurel Canyon right in L.A. It used to be a military compound, actually, then later on became a research facility, changed hands over the decades, and then I bought it a couple of years ago. I only use a few of the rooms. It's got eight bedrooms and twelve bathrooms. I guess I'll have to retrofit a couple of them now." He indicates his leg. "So I can actually...y'know...do my business without help."

"Twelve bathrooms?" My voice is a high-pitched squeak. Okay, yes, I know he's rich and famous, even though he doesn't know that I know, and of course he must have a palatial home to go with that celebrity status, but my amazement is still genuine.  _Twelve_  bathrooms!

"Oh, and it has the coolest lagoon-style swimming pool, all natural rock landscaping, right up against the hill, it kind of reminds me of here, actually." His hand leaves my shoulder, slides down my arm and he entwines his fingers in mine. "Listen, Lanie—I can't leave you two out here and never know what became of you, not know if you're safe, if you're happy, if you're alive or you're dead. I mean Jesus Christ, you saved my fucking  _life!"_

_Yeah. Which means we're even._

I glance over at Shelby, chewing my bottom lip. Well, it  _would_  be a nice reprieve for Shelby. An adventure of a whole new kind, really. And a house that size, we could keep to ourselves and let Jared live his life as if we weren't even there, couldn't we? And we could leave any time to continue our journey to Mexico. We'd just cross somewhere around Tijuana rather than Nogales, that's all.

"Lanie?" Jared's fingers squeeze a little, and it finally sinks in that he's holding my hand, his thumb stroking the back of my hand a little. I turn to him again, my heart skipping out an erratic, staccato rhythm as he asks, "What do you say? Will you and Shelby come back to L.A. with me?"

"If...if I build the signal fire...and the wrong people come...people who want to take Shelby from me...people who want me dead..." I trail off.

"That's not gonna happen." Jared's voice is firm, as if he's stating an indisputable fact.

I squint my eyes closed. In Jared's world, of course it won't happen. But this is the real world. "I'll build the signal fire. But Shelby and I can't just sit here if I don't know who'll show up."

"Then don't, if it'll make you feel better." Jared's tone is one of irritation, though his voice is still soft. "Go duck into the trees until they come, until you know they're safe. I'll let you decide if they are or not. And if they're legit, come with me, Lanie. Come back to L.A. with me. Please."

My mouth is dry, my tongue feels like it's twice its normal size, and coherent, rational, common-sense thought threatens to shred into tatters as those blue eyes bore into me, the candlelight serving to enhance their beauty even more. His hand in mine, his low, mellifluous voice are like the life-giving warmth of spring after a brutally long, cold winter. Easily, so easily, any shred of resistance I have left is evaporating. 


	5. Chapter Five

"Before you give me your answer, there's something you should probably know." Jared's hand gives mine a little squeeze and then lets go. "You could say I live a pretty...unconventional lifestyle." He sighs. "Something we have in common, I guess, but what I mean is, I'm...well, I'm an actor and a musician. Been in a lot of movies, my band's toured the world. I'm pretty well-known. That's why I asked you if you know who I am."

I'm not sure what to say to this. If I tell him now that I've known who he is since the moment I laid eyes on him, how will he react? For sure, he'll believe I've been deceptive, even though I never said anything outright one way or another.  I should've told him, but now it's too late. He's convinced I'm unaware of his celebrity status; in fact he seems to cling to that belief like it's some kind of a lifeline. 

I mumble, "Oh. Well, I guess it's true what they say about famous people."

"Oh yeah? What do they say?"

"That on some level they're all insane." I rub my eyes. "Jared, the fact that you're a movie and a rock star makes this all the more ridiculous. Don't you have...well, people? What'll they say if you come back to L.A. dragging me and Shelby along with you?"

"People? You mean assistants, managers, publicists, lawyers?  _Those_  people?"

"To name a few, yeah.  _Those_  people. Don't they have to vet everyone who comes within like a hundred yards of you and your home?"

A low laugh. "A slight exaggeration, but yeah. Typically. Unless I do my own vetting. I still do, you know. And when it comes to my friends, and there are precious few who I can  _truly_ call my friends, my peoplehave no input. So don't worry about what they say. I couldn't care less."

I gesture helplessly. "Okay, but what do you really know about me? Besides that I can treat a venomous snake bite, I can stitch a cut and set a broken leg and serve up a mean trout my kid caught and baked on a rock?"

Jared cocks an eyebrow. "Should I ask questions, and if I do, will you answer them?"

I'm really not used to answering questions about myself, and in fact, I do my best to avoid situations in which I have to, but I nod anyway. 

He continues, "Well, what did you do for a living before all this happened? Something in the medical field, right? Where did you and your kid learn all the wilderness survival stuff?"

That's an easy one. "I did work in the medical field, yes. I'm certified as an EMT with a special emphasis on Wilderness EMT training."

"And that's where all the survivalism stuff comes from too?"

"Not exactly. My dad ran a large wilderness camp and a fishing and hunting retreat, and I partnered with him after high school. McCarty Camp was my dad's legacy, and the only home I've ever known. The only home Shelby's ever known." My voice trails off. "And then Todd destroyed it."

"What do you mean he destroyed it?" Jared asks.

"Something happened between Todd and my dad, some kind of falling out, but I don't know what it was about. Dad never told me, and Todd never would tell me." I pick up a stick and stab it into the ground. "I have my suspicions it was about Todd's little drug operation he started running from the property. I think my dad found out about it and confronted Todd."

Jared's silent for a moment. Then he ventures, "I hate to ask this, Lanie, but...do you think your ex-husband had anything to do with your dad's death?"

I shake my head. "No. They caught the guy who shot him. Billy Heinrickson. He was a neighbor who claimed he'd been hunting gophers and crows. With a 30-30 rifle?" I laugh bitterly. "He was poaching deer...it wasn't firearm season yet, and he tracked a buck onto our land. My dad was bow-hunting, just sitting at the base of a clump of birch trees by the lake when this stupid asshole fired off a shot. Hit my dad in the neck and killed him instantly.

"So, no. Todd's a lot of things, but he didn't kill my father. He and my dad were really close, in fact, like Todd was the son he never had. They were friends before I even dated Todd. They were both what you'd call Preppers. You know, Doomsday Preppers."

Jared nods. "I've heard of them. Many have some...unusual theories about things."

"Yeah. Only my dad was more of the pragmatic type, believing we all should be ready for surviving any eventuality, whether natural or man-made. Todd is the paranoid type, absolutely convinced that there's a big secret plot at work to establish a one-world government, put dissenters in camps, etc. etc. etc. That's why he got involved in militia groups, to organize and fight against the takeover of the country." I sigh. "Financed in huge part by manufacturing meth, operating directly out of McCarty Camp. After my dad died, suddenly the people coming to stay at camp weren't hunters, fishermen, or nature lovers wanting to learn how to detach from the modern societal machine. Oh, these guys all showed up towing their boats, wearing camo, loaded down with fishing and hunting gear, but they weren't outdoors sports enthusiasts. They were drug runners from all over the country."

"Oh, shit, Lanie," Jared murmurs. "This guy really doesn't fuck around, does he?" He grips my hand. "Couldn't you call someone? The cops, the FBI?"

I close my eyes. "Todd had ways of convincing me that if I turned him in, one of two things would happen. This had been going on awhile, and McCarty Camp is my property. So, I'd either end up in prison right along with him as a co-conspirator, an accessory, you know, or he'd make sure I'd never testify against him in court. He meant it, too." 

I shiver as I remember when Todd held his Glock to my ear, murmuring that my death would solve every problem he had, and that he could easily make it look like an accident, or suicide. That Shelby would have to grow up with the knowledge that her worthless piece-of-shit junkie mother had deliberately checked out of her life.

"Junkie?" Jared stares at me. "Lanie, did you..."

"No!" The word bursts from me. "I swear. I never touched that shit."

"I believe you." His words are a soft caress over my entire being. "When did you split from this asshole?"

"Last year. Todd had made a deal with Billy Heinrickson to settle the wrongful death suit out of court. He ended up getting Billy's eighty acres adjacent to mine out of his portion, and he moved there, expanding his operation, and running training drills with his militia friends."

"Holy shit," Jared shakes his head. "Wow."

"I put a restraining order on him after he...well, we had a physical altercation which, I'm ashamed to say, I didn't come out from very well. He totally ignored the restraining order and kept on with the threats, kept at least one meth lab active on the property. God, how I wish I hadn't listened, hadn't let him use Shelby to intimidate and manipulate me. We probably wouldn't be here. Todd would be in prison and Shelby and I would be home. I'd have gotten McCarty Camp back to what my dad had, and we'd be getting on with our lives."

"But you  _are_ here," Jared says. "Don't take this the wrong way, but everything happens for a reason, and I for one am forever grateful that those terrible circumstances brought you here." He takes my hand, lifts it to his lips, and kisses it.

It's a light kiss, both his lips and his facial hair as soft and delicate as a butterfly's wings, but just the same I'm paralyzed by the shocking level of intimacy to it, by the way his eyes lock on mine. My God, no one has ever stirred anything like this in me from such an innocent, chaste, and sweet gesture. My heart hammering against my chest so loudly I'm sure he can hear it, I wait for him to break the eye contact, release my hand, and end the moment so I can gather myself together.

He doesn't. His eyes bore into my very soul, and he says, "Nothing you've told me has changed my mind, you know." His breath is warm against my hand, which he's still holding close to his face. "If anything, it only confirms what I knew all along."

"What?" I ask, my voice shaky and faint.

"You're an amazing woman, Lanie. Unlike any I've ever met. You're strong, you're courageous, you're beautiful, and you know how to survive."

Beautiful. For the third time. And what? Strong?  _Courageous?_  I'm trembling. I'm fucking  _trembling_ , and I don't know how to stop it.

Jared notices. He squeezes my hand a little. "Relax. Everything's going to be fine."

The electric zings are only growing more powerful, coupled with that imminent shredding of rational thought as he touches me. I close my eyes and swallow hard. How does he  _do_  this?

  "How do you know everything's going to be fine?" I respond. "I'm just not— " 

"I know what I need to know. My people don't do all of my thinking for me, and I'm usually a very good judge of character. I keep my circle small for that reason. There are a lot of really plastic, self-absorbed people in the world, especially in this business I'm in. Other than a very few, like my mom, and my bandmates—Tomo, and my brother, Shannon— at the end of the day everyone I deal with has their own self-serving agenda. They're people who hang around me because I'm a name, not because of  _me,_  if that makes sense." His hand leaves mine and strays to my hair. He plays with one of my half-grown-out dreadlocks and says, "Like I said, I've never known anyone quite like you. You're different, Lanie. You've got a mystery about you, yeah, but at the same time there's an honesty about you, and a perspective I haven't seen in such a long, long time. You're so...so  _real._  And the last thing you are is self-serving."

I've never heard myself described this way before, and I have no idea how to react except stare at him. It's almost like he's describing a total stranger. Is this how Jared really sees me?

My disbelief must be apparent on my face, because Jared continues, "I'm serious. I mean, look what you've done for me, without even knowing me. You built this shelter. You built me a bed. You've taken care of me around the clock. You've put yourself at huge risk, staying here all this time when God knows where your ex or his militia friends could be. I bet you've barely slept at all since you found me."

"Not much," I admit.

Jared sighs. "You know, after I fell, I laid there on that ledge trying to suck the poison out of the bite. The pain was off the fucking charts. I knew my leg was broken and I'd never get out of there on my own. I could only pray that somehow, someone might find me. I used the only thing I had any strength left to use...my voice."

I cringe, remembering that pain-and-terror filled cry that sent me fleeing . "Jared—"

"I'd been laying there maybe an hour, maybe two. I was so scared, Lanie. I knew it would be getting dark soon, and I thought I heard someone nearby. I was sure I did, and I cried out for help as loud as I could, but no one came." He swipes a hand over his face. "There couldn't have been anyone there, though. I think either the pain or the venom made me hallucinate or it was an animal or something. I mean, if that was a person, they'd have come, right? They wouldn't leave someone to die, would they? Or has this world really gotten as fucked as that?"

Surges of self-loathing blanket me, suffocating me as again I try to speak. "Jared—"

"Then this little girl, this little angel, showed up out of the dark. I'd just about given up by that time, laying there on that ledge all night. I was waiting to die, Lanie, and hoping it would be soon. She showed up and said she'd try to help me. She gave me water, she took her socks and some sticks and she wrapped my arm and told me everything was going to be okay, that she was going to go get her mom." His hand on my hair becomes a caress. "And then you came. Another beautiful angel."

"No, Jared. I'm...not beautiful. I'm...no angel. It was..." I draw a quivering breath. It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him that he hadn't been hallucinating, that there was someone there, and I am the one who'd knowingly and without a second thought left him to die because I was focused on two lives right then, neither of which were his. I want to tell him I'm not the person he thinks I am. Not even close. I'm just as self-serving as the hangers-on in his Hollywood circle. Probably moreso. I'm ready to spill it all out, but something stops me.

That something is a sound my ears detect and it freezes my tongue. I go rigid, every sense alert as I hold my breath.

Jared picks up on my sudden tension immediately. His voice is very low, very tight as he asks, "Lanie? What is it?"

"Someone's coming," I breathe out, and hold up my hand. I feel his own tense in my hair. Slowly I pull my knife from its sheath at my hip and hold a finger over my lips. I creep silently toward the doorway of the hut, where my pack is resting. I reach in and grasp my .357 Max, a birthday gift from my dad the year before he died. The Max is by far the most accurate pistol I've ever fired, both long and short range. I pray I won't need to use it.

I cast a glance over my shoulder at Jared. His eyes are wide at the sight of the gun. I point to the candle and he nods, wetting his fingers and reaching over to pinch the flame out. I  duck my head, leave the hut, and step out into the night. 

Billions of stars light up the sky above. The chorus of insects surrounds me, but I no longer hear what drove me outside. But I know they're out there. Somewhere.  _Who?_ Who would be creeping around here this time of night? Only one person that I know of. With the gun in my right hand and knife in the left, I make my way behind the hut and fade into the shadows near the trees, while I listen again for the sound of approaching footsteps.

I turn and cup my ear, straining to hear anything beyond crickets and night birds calling one another. There's nothing now, but deep within I feel the urge to leave, and with every passing second it grows. It's time to get out of the clearing and under the cover of the forest. But I don't dare go far from the hut. Shelby's in there, and Jared. Neither can defend themselves.

Swiftly, I head into the thick undergrowth near the creek, heading north of our camp to a hillside near Shelby's fishing spot no more than about fifty yards or so upriver. I can see down into camp from here reasonably well, and if I hunker down, I'm completely concealed from anyone passing more than ten feet away in any direction.

Laying flat, I use my elbows to prop myself up, the Max in my grip. I squint down the sight and test targets from the clearing to the creek for a clear shot. There aren't many, but there are enough.

All around me are the sounds of insects, the whisper of desert breeze, and I struggle to pick up on anything else, anything not of the forest, anything human-sounding.

It's very faint, but I soon hear it again. Turning my head this way and that, I try to pinpoint the direction it's coming from. It grows a little louder, but the echoing quality of the nearby cliff makes it impossible to be sure of where it's coming from. It's one person. That person is on foot, and from the sounds of it, they're not even trying to be quiet. The sharp snap of branches, the shuffle and clatter of feet kicking up small rocks. My heart begins to pound, thick pressure builds in my head, my ears, almost drowning out that of the unknown stranger's approach.

In a way, the seeming carelessness of their advance on our camp is reassuring. Todd's friends and associates wouldn't advertise their presence; most of them are well-versed in the tactic of silent movement on a target or evading the enemy, a skill learned mostly in the military and then practiced regularly with their civilian militia groups. They would know that we'd take off the instant we detected them. No, unless they're trying to flush us out, this isn't one of Todd's people.

But I'm not about to relax, put my gun down, and come walking out of the woods to meet them when they arrive. Not until I see a face, not until I get a good sense of who they are and where they're from. 

They're very close now, and I now know they're coming from behind me. A sudden vision makes me almost laugh out loud...what if I'm so invisible that this person walks right on me? The ground seems to vibrate with the footsteps as they draw nearer with every passing second. They are directly behind me now, and it's too late to move without giving myself away right in front of them; though the shock of my sudden appearance might work to my advantage. 

No. I have every intention of springing on this invader from behind.

I watch and listen in disbelief as a pair of brown distressed leather hiking boots pass by, no more than two feet on my right. I glance up quickly, past the blue jeans, the dark jacket, and the light-colored, possibly tan baseball cap. It's impossible to guess his height from where I lay at his feet, but in the quick glimpse of his face I make out a darker shadow of slight facial hair on his jaw, the jut of his nose and the set of his eyes. The rest is obscured by darkness.

Todd has a similar build. Todd has brown distressed leather hiking boots. Todd has a tan baseball cap he's particularly fond of wearing.

_Oh, my God._

He's headed directly toward camp, where Shelby lays sleeping, and Jared lays awake, injured, and unable to defend himself. Silently I pull myself to my feet, watching his slowly retreating form walk closer and closer to our camp. Todd doesn't like loose ends, and Jared would certainly present one.

I should shoot him, really. Shoot him, and be done with it. Something he wouldn't hesitate to do if the roles were reversed. Drop him here and now and let the coyotes and mountain lions and vultures lay waste to him.

But...something stops me. Something is off, and slowly, it dawns on me that this is not Todd. He's shorter, he walks with a different stride, and he sure the hell isn't a professional, with the way he's getting himself tangled in the underbrush. But then, who is he? And why is he heading for our camp in the middle of the night?

My paralysis broken, I launch myself at him, catching him in four long strides. In an instant I have him in a semi-chokehold, my knife at his throat and my gun to his head. The man cries out in shock and collapses to the rocky ground. A rock jabs me in the crazy bone of my left arm as I hit the ground and I clench my teeth against the numbing pain of it.

"Who the hell are you?" I breathe into the man's ear.

He's rigid and trembling. I can feel he's strong. Much stronger than he looked at first. He's not very tall, but what I feel under me is solid muscle. "I—" he gasps and struggles. I press my knife deeper, and move my other hand so he can see the gun in my grip.

"Jesus Christ lady, don't kill me!" the man yelps.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't," I hiss.

"I'm just...looking...for...someone!" he grits out.

"Way wrong answer, my friend," I reply in his ear. I've never actually killed anyone before. I'm a healer, not a murderer, and I sure the hell don't want to start now. But when it comes to protecting my daughter and Jared, I'll kill if I have to.

 _God forgive me,_ I pray. I grip my knife and prepare to quickly sever the man's jugular and carotid arteries.

But the man's got upper body strength to spare, and despite my best effort at holding him immobile with his head back, his chin secured in the crook of my elbow, he squirms and turns his head to the side. The move knocks his cap off, and I can see him better now. 

I gasp in stunned disbelief as his features become clear, and a wash of unreality, like vertigo, makes me lightheaded. 

His hair's shorter than I remember—a lot shorter. But the flaring eyebrow, the set of his lips are unmistakable. And by the faint light of the stars, on the side of his neck, just below and behind his ear, I can clearly make out the triad tattoo.

I relax my hold, dropping both knife and pistol to the ground as I sit back and stare at him in complete shock, and in horror at what I've almost done. 

"Shannon."


	6. Chapter Six

We stare at one another through the gloom of darkness. Jared's brother presses a hand to his neck, his eyes wide, his nostrils flared, his fury only slightly tempered by fear. "You almost killed me," he growls through clenched and bared teeth. "I'm  _bleeding!"_

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't know who you were," I stammer. Swallowing hard, I rise on unsteady legs. Shannon shrinks back and tenses, clearly preparing to spring to his feet and bolt. "Let me look at your neck," I add.

"Oh!" his voice drips sarcasm. "You know who I am now. That's great. That makes it all better! What, do you go around assaulting people like this on a regular basis? And like  _hell_ I'll let you look at it!" Still clutching his neck, he puts out his other hand to ward off my approach. "You stay the fuck away from me!" He scrambles in his pocket and produces what looks like a cell phone.

"Thank God, one of you had the sense to bring a phone out here," I mutter under my breath, as I turn and stoop to gather my knife and gun. Sheathing the knife and tucking the Max in my waistband, I toss my hair back over my shoulder and hold my own hand out to Shannon, saying, "Get up. You've come to find Jared, and I'll take you to him."

Shannon's eyes grow round, before they narrow into tiny, deadly slits. Even in the dim light I can see his face darken as both terror and rage again fill his expression. He scrambles to his feet, keeping a wary eye on my weapons.  "What the hell did you do to him, bitch? _Where the fuck is my brother?"_

I withdraw my hand. I haven't ever seen pure hate aimed at me like this, stabbing into me like twin poison daggers. Not even from Todd. One thing about the Leto brothers; they both know how to use their eyes to incredible effect. I hold myself stiff, resisting that murderous glare and do my best to appear unruffled under it. But my voice carries a slight tremble as I reply, "Follow me." I turn and set off down the hill toward camp. There's a loud crunch as Shannon bursts through the undergrowth behind me, staying right on my heels down the hill toward the clearing.

The hut is still dark, and is silent. I wonder if the commotion of my encounter with Shannon was loud enough to be heard here. My heart racing, I head across the clearing to the low doorway of the hut.

"Seriously?" Shannon growls behind me. "He's in that thing? If this is a trap, lady, and if you did anything to him, I swear to God—"

"Jared?" I whisper into the hut.

"Yeah?" he replies softly. "Who is that? Is everything okay?"

I withdraw my Max and slide it into my pack just inside the doorway. At the same time, Shannon cries, "Jared? Is that really you? Oh, my God!  Where are you? I can't see you! Get your ass out of there!"

He tries to shove past me into the hut and I block his way with a sharp elbow to his hard-as-iron chest. "Shhhhh! You're gonna wake my daughter and scare her!"

 _"Shannon?"_  Jared's voice carries a note of disbelief. "Holy shit, Shannon, what are  _you_ doing out here?"

"I've been looking for  _you!"_  Shannon again tries to bolt into the darkened hut and again I hold him back, visualizing him charging in like a bull and plowing right into Jared, further injuring him. "Let me in, you crazy bitch!" he roars.

"He's injured, damn it!" I hiss.

 _"Injured?_  What the hell did you do to my brother?" Shannon demands, grabbing my arm in a painful grip.

"Mom?" Shelby's voice is sharp and alert. In a flash she's at my side, the starlight reflecting in her dark eyes, which blaze with fury as she stares up at the stranger, her hands in fists in front of her in a fighting stance. "Don't you ever call my mom a crazy bitch again, you stupid  _asshole!"_

Shannon releases my arm as he stares down at her. "Oh, Jesus. Are you kidding me right now?"

"Shelby...stop. It's okay. This is Jared's brother, Shannon." I lay a restraining hand on her shoulder. "We need to get the candle lit."

"I'll do it," she replies. With another glare at Shannon, she ducks back inside.

"Will someone please tell me what the  _fuck_  is going on here?" Shannon roars. "Jared? Why aren't you coming out? Are you okay? What'd she do to you?"

"Calm the fuck down, Shannon," Jared replies. "I'm laid up in here with a broken leg. And dude, don't you disrespect Lanie. She and her daughter saved my life."

"What?" Shannon pales visibly. "Man, this nutcase is armed, and she just tried to  _kill_  me! She fucking  _cut_  me!"

"Oh, shit," Jared groans. "Lanie, please tell me you didn't."

"Not intentionally," I snap. "I didn't know who he was!"

"What a big baby," Shelby remarks. I hear the soft whirr-whirr as she works the spindle on the fireboard.

"That's enough, Shelby," I tell her sharply. Then I turn to Shannon. "Look. If you can calm down, step inside— _slowly,_ " I place a hand on his chest. I glance at his neck as I do so; he  _is_  bleeding, but just a little, and the cut doesn't seem terribly deep. "Jared is three steps in and three steps to your right. We'll have light in a minute, but  _you_  need to chill out. Your brother's been through hell."

Shannon shoots me another deadly glare. I stare back levelly. His lips tight, he ducks through the doorway and I follow, just as the first sparks fly from the fireboard.

 

***

 

Shannon's phone has no signal. Repeated tries result in nothing. "I don't  _believe_  this!" He tosses the phone aside in frustration and buries his head in his hands. "We're only maybe twenty miles from Sedona, thirty from Flagstaff. There are cell towers around here! How can there be no signal? Not  _one_ bar?"

"In the morning, try on a higher elevation," I suggest. "The cliff might be blocking the signals."

"Was I talking to you?" he snaps. I flinch a little, but otherwise I refuse to react.

"Shan...." Jared says softly. "Stop it."

Shannon diverts his attention away from me. "How the hell did this happen to you, little brother? How did you end up here?"

As Jared tells his story, I lay close beside Shelby in her bedroll, watching as Shannon lovingly strokes his brother's hair as he speaks, and the candlelight reflects in the tears on Shannon's cheeks as Jared reveals how close to death he'd come.

"Oh, my God. I could've lost you," Shannon chokes out. "Jared, goddammit, you can't do shit like this. Mom—Mom's worried sick. Tomo's been blowing up the phone of everyone he can think of. Stevie's a wreck, blaming himself if anything happened to you because he agreed not to say anything to anyone.  Your people are going fucking bananas, man. The way you took off—without a word to anyone else—after everything that's happened lately—Chris, Chester—and then the shit with you and Katia?" At this, Jared's expression turns wooden and his lips form a hard, thin line; expressions I've never seen in his face before. Seemingly oblivious to his brother's discomfiture, Shannon continues, "I thought—oh God, we  _all_ thought—the worst."

"I didn't come out here to kill myself. Not intentionally, anyway. Jesus, Shan, you've got to know better than that. So should Tomo, Stevie, and Mom. As for anyone else?" Jared turns away. "Fuck 'em."

"Yeah, of course we know better. But it's just...Katia...you know? You have to admit that messed you up pretty bad." Shannon glances in my direction, wiping his eyes. "Hey. Annie Wilkes. You know what? I appreciate all you did for my brother. I do. But right now I'd really like to talk to him without you breathing down our necks. Would you and the kid be considerate enough to get out of here and give my brother and I some time alone?"

 _Annie Wilkes._  My back stiffens and my eyes dart to Jared, who sighs.

"Shan, knock it off.  _Annie Wilkes?_  Dude, come on. She's not an obsessed fan for Christ's sake! She didn't even know who I am! She's not out to hurt anyone!"

"Yeah? Well, I've got a cut on my neck that says otherwise."

"Jesus. You've done worse to yourself shaving." Jared rolls his eyes. "And you did some pretty bad name-calling,  and if I was in any condition I'd kick your ass for saying it."

Shannon's expression speaks volumes. His tears, his palpable love and concern for his younger brother is beautiful to witness; but his dark anger aimed my way is something entirely the opposite. I've been maintaining an unperturbed appearance in the face of it, but it's getting difficult. I feel bad enough as it is for what I nearly did to him, but Shannon isn't about to forgive it, isn't about to see I was acting to protect Jared as well as Shelby. Not that I can blame him, I guess. In his shoes I certainly wouldn't be quick to forgive, either, but I'd be just as quick to suspect the worst of me. I did, after all, suspect the worst of him.

"It's okay, Jared," I say. I slide away from Shelby and get to my feet. "But I'm not waking my daughter to make her leave. She needs her sleep."

"And you  _don't?"_  Jared gestures at me. "Christ, Lanie. You're ready to drop where you're standing."

True. I've never been so exhausted, so incredibly sleep-deprived in my life. But I have no desire to lay there subject to Shannon's continuous dirty looks and comments. And I have no intention of wasting any more of my breath defending myself. Since he won't let me near him I've had to hand the betadine wipe and jar of aloe vera paste to Jared who attended to his brother himself, while Shannon glared balefully at me the entire time. Just like he's doing now.

Yeah, I'd definitely prefer to sleep outside. "I've slept out under the stars before. It's fine," I assure Jared, and I leave the hut. At the edge of the clearing I find a soft bed of tall grasses between a couple of trees nearby. I ensure that it's snake and scorpion-free before I settle in...with my antivenom supply gone I'm in massive trouble should I fall victim to a venomous bite or a sting.

Once nestled in the soft grassy cradle, immediately I begin to drift off and I'm grateful for that; my taxed mind is in a bleary whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions that threaten to bubble over and I simply can't afford or allow that.

There's an element of comfort in Shannon Leto's arrival too, though. It ensures Jared's safe departure from here, and that he'll be with family who love him. He'll get the surgery and all the proper medical care he needs, and he'll return home to finish recovering. I face the fact that in light of Shannon's attitude, Shelby and I will not be accompanying them to California. I try to convince myself that this is for the best, but what I feel is a sense of despondency, of emptiness, a looming black cloud of impending loss.

A warm tear escapes, one single betrayal of my tightly-locked emotions. As sleep overtakes me at last, I vow there won't be another.

 

***

 

Shannon sets off for higher ground the next morning as the sun just starts to stretch itself over the horizon. He looks as though he hasn't slept a wink; I'm pretty sure Jared hasn't either. After attending to Jared's bladder needs and giving him his colloidal silver, Shelby and I slice mushrooms and grind more mesquite pods into coarse meal. I add a little water and a precious handful of dried and reconstituted cranberries I've had stashed in our food rations I brought from Minnesota. I shape two good-sized cakes and set them on the hot rock to bake.

Jared's brother is also a vegan. I shake my head at that bit of info Jared shared with me after Shannon left to try for cell reception. Shelby went fishing and disappointingly she came back without any trout. But she found some clams in the creek and so we're eating those, leaving the mushrooms and mesquite cakes for the guys. They're getting the better end of the deal, in my opinion. I detest clams.

"Shannon hates us," Shelby remarks as she flips one of the cakes with her bare first finger and thumb. "Ow."

"He's a little freaked out at finding his brother here with a broken leg and a snakebite," I explain. "He's very protective of Jared. That's understandable, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but we helped Jared," Shelby pointed out. "He should be happy we saved his brother, not hate us."

I sigh. Shelby doesn't yet know that Jared's a world-renowned actor and rock star, and that Shannon has good reason to be suspicious of any strangers harboring his famous sibling...but especially a dirty, unkempt stranger that attacked him in the middle of the night during his search and has been keeping his celebrity brother in a mud and stick hut out in bumfuck Egypt. "The important thing is, Jared's gonna get to a hospital where he'll be taken care of properly and he'll get to go home. He's safe."

"Yeah, I guess," Shelby checks the cakes for doneness. "I just wish Shannon wouldn't stare at us so mean, when we're the ones taking care of Jared. Is he gonna keep being mean when we go to California?"

I swallow hard. "I...really don't think we're going to California, Shelby. Not when Shannon feels the way he does. I think Plan A is back in effect."

"Mexico." the word falls from her lips with a thud. "But I want to go with Jared! Why did Shannon have to show up and ruin it?"

Fortunately, I hear Shannon returning well before he actually does, and I place my hand on Shelby's wrist, pressing the first finger of my other hand to my lips. 

Not so fortunately, I discover Shannon's hearing is almost as good as mine.  _"Seriously?"_  he says when he steps into the clearing, clutching his phone in one hand, pointing at us with the other. He laughs harshly. "You thought you'd go to L.A. with Jared?" He shakes his head and turns toward the hut. "Hey, man, good news! I got through, there's a medi-vac chopper on the way. But get a load of  _this_  bullshit...these two think they're going home with you! So tell me again how  _not_  insane they are?"

Jared's response is swift. "They think they're coming home with me because that's exactly what they're doing."

_"What?!"_

Shelby and I exchange an uneasy glance. "Watch the food," I mutter. I rise and start for the hut, brush past Shannon who's standing there pale and speechless. I duck inside. Jared's calm blue gaze greets me as I cross the short distance to his bed and kneel down.

"Jared, I can't. Shannon's right. It's insane. He doesn't want us to come, and I don't think I want us to come, either. This is exactly what I was talking about last night. It's just asking for trouble and drama you don't want or need. Just...the medi-vac's coming and they'll get you to a hospital. Nothing else matters more than that."

"Yes, something else does matter, dammit." Jared touches my cheek with the back of his hand and once again, just like that I'm overcome with that electric current that flows between his flesh and mine. "You and Shelby matter. To me, you more than matter. I love my brother...he's my best friend, my everything, yeah, and I'll make him understand that  _I_  want you to come with me." His eyes shift to the doorway where a shadow obfuscates the morning sunlight beaming in. He calls, "I know you heard every word I just said, Shannon. I want this. Lanie and Shelby are going home with me."

Shannon's low-throated response is blue with profanity, and the hut's interior illuminates again as he strides away from it.

"No!" I argue again. "It'll cause too much trouble! It'll be—"

And that's when Jared kisses me.

His hand curls around my neck, his eyes alight. Before I can react or even form a thought, he pulls me to him and my mouth is on his.

_This isn't real. This is not happening. This is like some dream or something and I'm going to wake up, any minute now._

But it  _is_  real. It is happening. Jared's breath is a magical caress against my skin. His lips part. Mine follow, and his tongue gently invades, seeking and finding my own. Of their own accord my hands find themselves touching his face, the soft beard, the smooth skin above it, and his long, tangled mass of rich, deep brown hair. His own fingers in my hair tighten and twist, almost, though not quite painfully—a clear message, a command, really, that only heightens the sudden euphoric cloud that is my mind. 

That message is,  _I want you._

Jared makes a low, soft sound in his throat that sends a thrill deep into the very core of me, but then I remember Shannon and Shelby and I find in myself the strength to pull away. 

Somehow. Barely. Because my heart has never raced like this, my head has never before spun with all of these feelings and thoughts and fear and want and simmering sexual awakening exploding all at one time.

"God, you have no idea how much I've wanted to do that since yesterday," Jared murmurs, his voice deep, warm, and soft, his eyes fixed on mine and a smile on those perfect lips. "And it was so... _so_  well worth the wait."

I struggle to find something to say. Something simple yet eloquent that could encompass this moment, something that will invoke the same kind of feeling in him that both the gentle softness and fierce hunger in his eyes and his voice and his words give me.

I take a deep breath, but what comes out is, "After that, I'm sure glad that I have toothbrushes and toothpaste, and we're both using them religiously."

Jared's eyes widen, then close as he chuckles, and then a full laugh escapes him.

My face is flaming hot. _Seriously. I really just said_ that?  _To_ Jared Leto _after he kissed me, when there is so, so,_ so  _much to say...? God! What the hell is wrong with me?!_

"Oh, Jeeeeesus..."I mumble, burying my face in his chest. "I'm so not good at this. I am  _such_  a moron."

His laughter subsides, and for a few seconds I only hear his heartbeat under my cheek. But when I look up again, Jared's still smiling, and again with that softened, yet somehow fiery look in his sapphire eyes. He reaches out a single finger and traces my lips. "No, you're not, Lanie. Not at all. You are an absolute delight."


	7. Chapter Seven

The simmering eye contact isn't broken. Instead, Jared strokes my rough hair, the smile playing at his lips still, regarding me silently for a moment that stretches out interminably long. Too long. I squirm under that intense perusal. I want to tell him to be prepared to be moved when the chopper arrives; something that's  likely to cause him a fair bit of agony. I want to be all businesslike now and pretend a part of me that's lain dormant for a long, long time didn't just wake up screaming. I want to pretend the way he kissed me didn't just knock my world totally off its axis.

"Tell me something true, Lanie," he says quietly. "Something real. Something about you that no one else on earth knows."

I blink. "I...me? I'm an open book." The flippancy in my voice isn't intentional, but it disguises the mayhem inside threatening to bubble to the surface, turning me into a hysterical babbling idiot. The idiot that was turned loose the instant Jared's lips met mine.

"C'mon." Jared isn't convinced. I can see that clearly written on his face. "Everyone has something. Especially you. There's that air of mystery about you, like I said yesterday. Give me just a tiny glimpse into that place in you, Lanie."

"Okay, okay," I sigh. I've hit on something relatively innocuous that hopefully will satisfy him. "Maybe this isn't something  _nobody_  knows, but it's something I don't go around advertising." I pause and take a deep breath for dramatic effect. "My real name is Marlena. Marlena JoAnn McCarty." I make a sour face. "What a mouthful, huh?"

"Marlena." The way he speaks my given name, rolling it off his tongue slowly, so rich and so decadently smooth, I find myself wondering why I've always hated it so much. "That's a beautiful, classy name."

Sure, coming from him it is. I'm reddening again. My cheeks burn and I turn away and mumble something that sounds like a thank you, adding, "So. How about you?"

"No, that didn't count." Jared shakes his head and gives me that quirky half-smile I've come to find completely endearing. "Your given name isn't the kind of deep secret I'm talking about and you know it."

Well, so much for that. I tear my eyes away. Now is the perfect moment to tell him the truth— now, before the helicopter comes. I visualize the shock, the disappointment, the anger in his face. I even can hear his words:  _So Shannon is right about you._ Even though he isn't. At least, I don't think he is. I'm not an obsessed fan, and I certainly bear no resemblance to Stephen King's psychopathic antagonist Annie Wilkes.

But then Jared says,"I mean something you're not proud of, maybe. Something that'll make me feel like less of a total fuckup myself."

Startled, I look at him. He's no longer looking back at me; his focus is on the makeshift roof over us, his hands locked together behind his head, a faraway expression on his face. My eyes look over that face, the knitted brows, the absence of a smile on his lips now, and I know that what I should tell him is what I absolutely cannot say. But there is another thing. Something I am deeply ashamed of.

"Okay," I begin instead. "When I was young, all I wanted was to travel, to gain more skills, and get my Wilderness EMT certification. I didn't want to get married, and I knew fairly early on that marrying Todd was a mistake. And I never wanted to have kids.  I believed that having a baby would derail me from the life I wanted to have. It would tie me down. Would tie me to  _him_  and make ending the marriage too messy, too complicated. So when I got pregnant, I almost...stopped it." I can't say the word, but I'm pretty sure Jared gets my meaning without needing me to spell it out.

Jared looks at me again. "That's the kind of something I'm talking about. How close did you come to...terminating?"

"I got as far as the clinic," I murmur. I play with a loose thread on the sleeping bag covering Jared, twisting it around my first finger. "In Duluth. I got there, I was determined to go through with it, but I couldn't do it." My voice has dropped to a whisper. "Todd was furious, he didn't want kids, either. But my dad said we'd find a way to make it work. My EMT studies, helping him run the camp,  _and_  having a baby."

"And you did."

I nod, and glance outside where Shelby's finishing cooking breakfast. Birds apparently have caught the scent of the food cooking and are filling the trees around the clearing, chattering noisily. With remarkable likeness, she chatters back at them. "Yeah. I did. Thank God I did. Now I can't imagine life without my little girl."

"She's a beautiful rare soul, like her mom. But I'd have liked to have met your dad. It sounds like he was a very good guy."

I nod again as a rock forms in my throat. "The best. I miss him every day." I clear my throat. "So. Your turn."

"Oh. We'd be here all day if I started spilling my deep dark secrets." There's a teasing glint in his eyes, but underneath that I can detect something more, a wealth of things, actually. When I don't respond to his light deflective comment, he sighs deeply and I see the teasing glimmer fade. "All right. Here goes. A lot of times, but especially when I'm on tour or traveling to do promotion work or an appearance at a gala event, I lay in bed at night in some random ultra-luxury hotel, thinking about and wondering what it would be like to be normal. Sometimes that wondering isn't wondering at all. It's  _wishing."_

"Really? You sometimes wish you weren't famous?"

He passes a hand over his face. "You don't have to tell me, Lanie. I know how it sounds. Right now there's a garage band in some midwestern town playing dive bars and working their asses off at some shitty day jobs, hoping for that one big break that most likely will never come. There's a factory worker in another town slogging away twenty hours of overtime a week just to pay the bills. He turns on the TV or the radio or whatever and here's Jared Leto in his face, a guy who's been blessed with the ability to make a hell of a living doing what he loves to do. As rare as this level of success is, to complain about any part of it makes me sound like I'm a spoiled, ungrateful, whiny little bitch. Maybe I am, I don't know. It's not because I'm not honored that people love my work, my art, because I put my entire heart and soul into what I do and I'm proud of the work I've put out there. I can't imagine doing anything else with my life.

"But sometimes, it's too much. The never-ending attention. The demands. The expectations. The utter lack of autonomy, of any semblance of a private life. Every word, every move, everything about my appearance being dissected. Never being allowed to screw up and say something dumb, or to have a shitty day and be pissed off like everyone else. Being loved and worshipped for what I do, not for who I really am. The fact is, Lanie, I don't belong to myself but to  _them._  All of them. The fans. The industry. The cultivated image. Everyone but myself, really. I've got money, yeah. I've got all this status and everything at my fingertips. With nothing more than my name and my face I can pretty much get anything and anyone I want. But I  _owe_  them and no one lets me forget it. It's crushing. It's suffocating. When it comes down to it, Lanie, fame is a glamorous form of indentured servitude."

I'm nothing short of stunned by this unprecedented glimpse into Jared that I'm quite sure few have ever been allowed access to. A glimpse that, if he thought I was a fan or even slightly aware of his existence before finding him broken and bleeding, he probably would never allow me. "I guess..." I finally say."I guess you have to either become a flaming narcissist or go insane."

Jared smiles grimly. "Narcissism or insanity? I've learned to strike a little bit of balance between the two. Ask anyone who's gotten close to me. Especially the women in my life."

Oh. That's a place I have no desire to explore. Fortunately I don't have to, as just then Shelby appears in the doorway of the hut with a tin plate. "Breakfast is ready," she announces. "But _he_  doesn't want to eat his."

 _Speaking of spoiled, ungrateful, whiny little bitches,_ I think to myself as I take the plate from Shelby and bring it to Jared. "I'm not really surprised," I tell him as I help him sit up.

"Yeah, but he's always been a picky eater," Jared shrugs and dives into his mesquite cake. "Well, that just means more for me. It's always been that way, even when we were little kids. I always used to eat whatever Shannon didn't want on his plate. Drove my mom and grandparents crazy."

I picture Jared and Shannon as children and it makes me smile. They had to have been a cute and precocious handful.

Shannon returns to the hut a few minutes later. He watches Jared finish both of their breakfasts. "I can't believe you ate that," he remarks, his lips twisting in a disparaging grimace.

Jared grins and hands me the empty plates. "I can't believe you won't. It's good."

Shannon shakes his head, but says, "The chopper should be here within the next ten minutes. Just spoke to the dispatch again. I also called Mom. She'll be at the hospital when we get there. So will Tomo and Stevie."

"Is anyone else going to show up?" Something in Jared's tone makes me look at him closely. There's a rigidity in his eyes. "I don't want a fucking circus made out of this, Shan."

Shannon's eyes slide over me briefly. "You mean the media and the paparazzi, or Katia?"

"Both." Jared spits the word out. "I don't want any of them there."

"As far as I know, nobody in the press has any idea you even split town. But Katia..." he shrugs. "Katia does what she wants to do."

"Isn't that the truth," Jared mutters under his breath. "So we're flying in this helicopter all the way back to the hospital in L.A.?"

"Probably. I mean, Cedars-Sinai is where your orthopedic specialist is, so it would make the most sense, wouldn't it?" Shannon points out.

"Orthopedic specialist?" I echo, frowning at Jared. "Did you have a previous injury?"

Jared nods. "Fucked my back up climbing last summer, and then my knee during a performance on stage a few months ago. My right ACL was messed up. It's not a big deal, really."

No, except that it's the same leg he's now broken. I bite my lip and meet Shannon's gaze. Something in my expression captures and holds his attention. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" I ask him.

He doesn't answer at first, and then tilts his head out the door, a nonverbal cue to come outside. "I'll be right back," I tell Jared.

"Don't beat up on him too badly," he calls after me as I exit the hut.

I head for the edge of the clearing, Shannon right behind me.

"Hey Mom, are you going to have any of these clams?" asks Shelby, squatting near the fire with a plate full of the steaming hot, nasty crustaceans.

Yuck. "No," I answer. "They're all yours." I keep going, well into the trees. Shannon crashes and crunches in my wake.

"What is it?" he demands.

I finally stop and turn. "Jared injured his right ACL a few months ago? What kind of injury was it?"

"Yeah, he twisted something or hyper-extended it or something like that. He had to wear a brace for awhile. Why?"

I wince at this news. "ACLs take time to heal. Longer than a few months, usually. He probably wasn't healed when he went climbing and it gave out, probably injuring it even more. Jared's going to need intensive physical therapy to regain full use of his right leg." I pause, and add, "Even then, it'll probably never be a hundred percent again."

Shannon snorts. "You don't know Jared. He's healthy and strong, but more than that, he's tenacious and stubborn. He'll bounce right back from this."

I shake my head adamantly. "Maybe twenty years ago he could've. But Jared's in his forties, and he's  _not_  going to bounce right back."

"Well, he's got the body and energy of a twenty-six-year-old. Frankly, Lanie, it's not really your business, anyway." Shannon's eyes pierce through me. "Thanks for the concern, but it's unnecessary. He's got the best doctors that'll give him the best medical care on earth. He'll be fine."

I grit my teeth, aggravated. "I just wanted you to know so you can make sure he gets ongoing physical therapy and follows through with it. Like you said, he's stubborn. Because of that, he's also going to push himself too hard, too early, and we both know it. I want you to do what you can to keep that from happening."

"Again, what my brother does and doesn't do is not your business," Shannon snaps. He stops and frowns a little. Then, with a slight nod, he adds, "Thank God. Here they come. Your work here is done, Lanie." He brushes past me as he heads back to camp, just as I too detect the faint  _chup-chup-chup_  of an approaching helicopter.

 

***

 

As the medi-vac hovers over the rough terrain of our surroundings, searching for a place to land that won't entail anyone having to wade across the creek, Shannon spends those couple of minutes doing his very best to convince Jared to leave us behind. Even over the chopper's noise I can clearly hear him inside the hut, pleading his case against us.

He's making perfect sense, and I can't argue much of the basis for his objections. Jared's a superstar. Even if  we weren't previously aware of his celebrity, something Shannon still doubts, Shelby and I are homeless strangers living off the land that have no business anywhere near Hollywood, much less taking up residence in the mansion of one of its high profile stars. Yes, I agree a hundred percent with all of that.

"And back to this idea that she doesn't know who you are. How the hell did she recognize  _me,_  then?" Shannon demands.

"Jesus," Jared retorts. "I told her all about you, and hello? The  _tattoo,_  you idiot."

"Well, still," Shannon responds. "Let's say they don't know. What are you going to do with them once you get them home, anyway? And what about Katia? She'll spit blood and nails if you move another female in with you. Even some random nobody like this chick."

I wince. Shannon sure has a way of making me feel like a dog turd lying in a gutter.

"Let her spit whatever she wants," Jared's voice takes on a bitter edge. "Katia Valkov is no longer my problem."

"Sure she isn't. What if she's gone crying to daddy that you dumped her, and daddy pulls his money out of this new movie?"

"Hah!" Jared scoffs. "Ivan's not about to do that. He knows a moneymaker when he sees one. Even if Katia and I were still seeing each other I couldn't take the role now, and I frankly don't give a shit. I never  _wanted_  that part, Shannon, and Ivan knew that from the jump. That was Katia all the way. She's the one who convinced me to take on both directing and playing the lead role opposite her."

They continue talking but I don't want to listen anymore. I busy myself extinguishing the fire, my mind whirling. Shannon had mentioned someone named Katia last night, too. So, this Katia is Jared's ex-girlfriend. I wonder how long ago their relationship ended, and how serious it had gotten before it did. With a name like Katia Valkov, I imagine her looks are just as exotic and beautiful as her name. She's probably tall, with that carefully blank, ice-cold regal air of a high-fashion model on the runway or pictured in those glossy magazines like Vogue or Elle, with chiseled bone structure that cameras love and women like me love to hate.

Well, not really. I've never given much thought to that sort of thing. Never before, at least, and I detest the fact that I am giving it any thought now. So I deliberately steer my mind in another direction, and I join Shelby at the edge of the creek where she's watching the helicopter as it dips below the tree line, finally finding a place to land on our side of the water.

"Are we...riding in that thing?" she asks me.

Good question. "I guess it depends on whether the pilot lets us, and if Jared still wants us to go."

"He does," Shelby states confidently. "He's been telling me all about his pool and that he's thinking about getting a kitten. Wouldn't that be fun?"

I cringe. Nothing's worse than building a child's hopes up, only for them to be crushed. Even above the continuous sound of the chopper's engine, I can still hear both Jared and Shannon's earnest voices, though I can no longer make out what's being said. Nor do I wish to know, but I can't put it off any longer; Jared's still my patient for the next few minutes."I'd better go get Jared ready to move," I tell Shelby. I head back to the hut, dreading with each step having to face Shannon's scathing but triumphant expression and Jared's....what? I don't know. Since he kissed me, I don't know what to make of the many emotions that I see play out on his perfect features, in his hypnotic eyes. Or maybe I'm afraid to look too closely at them.

But triumphant is not what I find in Shannon's expression when I step inside. Nor is there scathing, dark suspicion, or anger. There's what looks like resignation, but nowhere near the resentment I expect.

"Hey." Shannon rises from where he's sitting on the ground by Jared. He can't pull himself up to his full height or his head would burst through the boughs that make up the hut's roof. Stooping a little, he says, "Before we get out of here, let's call a truce, Lanie." He actually manages a rather tight-lipped smile, but it's a smile nonetheless.

Too surprised to do anything else, I return the smile, putting out my own hand. As we shake, I tell him, "We're not at war, Shannon. We never were. We're on the same side."

"Yeah. I'm slowly starting to get that. I want to apologize for being a dick to you. It's just...if you knew what kind of over-the-top, insane nutjobs there are out there, what he's had to deal with over the years, I guess you'd probably understand why I acted the way I did. I do understand now why you acted the way you did when you found me out in the woods headed this way. Jared just now gave me a quick rundown about your ex and who he associates with, and what brought you out here."

I nod. "We both were trying to protect your brother. That's all, and I'm sorry I jumped you. And for the record, I'm still not sure us going to L.A. is a good idea myself." I turn to kneel next to Jared's leg and check his splint. It needs to be solidly in place for the transfer to the helicopter. I look it over carefully, testing its stability, not saying what's really on my mind, what's screaming through my head so loud I can barely hear anything else, why going to L.A. might be nothing but a mistake.

I know better than to read more into Jared's kiss. There is no way anything could come of it. I'd be a complete and utter fool to believe otherwise. It was a spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment, impulsive act on his part and the fact that I absolutely melted is besides the point. Any woman would do the same. And I've shown just how out of my depth I am when I made that stupid comment about oral hygiene. I'm sure Katia Vol-whoever-she-is never makes a ridiculous statement like that after Jared kisses _her._

Shannon interrupts my thoughts. "Yeah. I know that now. And while I can't say I'm a hundred percent on board with you two moving in with him, I can see it's pointless to argue it. His mind's made up."

"It is," Jared says. "Now it's back to la-la-land," His eyes flit to the doorway as Shelby comes rushing inside.

"The helicopter men are coming this way," she announces. "They've brought a stretcher with them."

Shannon's the first to move. He quickly leaves the hut to go meet the EMTs, and Jared looks at me as I cover his leg with my sleeping bag again. "Guess the cavalry's finally landed, huh?" he says. "In a way, I'm kind of sad to leave this place."

I kneel stock-still, studying his bearded face, his startling blue eyes, his smile that lights up even this primitive little hut, shining brighter than the sun overhead. All of them begin to blur.

"Jared—" my voice is tight. "I..." moving up to the top of his bed, I touch his face. "Before they come and get you, I have to tell you something."

Jared's silent, but even through the cloud of tears I refuse to allow myself to shed, I see his smile falter, his eyes darken, and his brows knit together.

I summon up all my courage. "If we never see each other again, I want you to know something. I—"

He grips my arm. "Never see each other again? What are you saying, Lanie?" His eyes are huge. "Don't. Don't you do this!"

"If they won't let us come with you, you need to know this!" I persist. "I can't hold it in anymore. I—"

"Sir?" A voice interrupts me. I turn and in the doorway, crouching down, is one of the EMTs, his uniform a crisp blue with a red and white patch on the arm. Jared turns his head to look at him too, and the young man's face goes pale. "Holy tapdancing Christ on a cracker, you  _are_  Jared Leto!"

"Yup. Last time I checked," Jared says and gives the man a casual wave.

"I'll be damned." The medic shakes his head. Then he looks at me, a tad dubiously. "And you, miss, I understand you're a certified EMT and have been treating the patient?"

I take a deep breath and collect myself. "I'm a certified Wilderness EMT, I work in Search and Rescue, and yes, I've been treating him," I answer.

"Okay. I'll need you to give us a full rundown of your assessments of his injuries and treatments while we're en-route," the man tells me, all business now as he enters the hut and moves close to Jared's side, his partner right behind him. They lay the stretcher on the ground next to Jared as Shannon steps into the now overcrowded hut, ready to assist them.

A sudden whoosh of lightheadedness fills me and I let out a breath I don't know I've been holding. "Of course," I answer, and Jared clutches my hand. I look down at him and he meets my eyes, his glowing with that look he had earlier that morning, the same one that both paralyzed me and sent my heart racing. "I'll be happy to help in any way I can."


	8. Chapter Eight

I've ridden in a number of medi-vac helicopters. They're fully equipped for handling the gravest cases of injury and sudden illness, truly an Emergency Room in the air.  But I'm also aware of their limited space and at no time during my work as an EMT have I ridden in one that accepted non-affected passengers other than perhaps one immediate family member to ride with the victim and give the attendants on board information vital to stabilizing the patient.

Undoubtedly it's Jared's status that granted us a very big exception this time, rather than the fact that I've been treating him. I could've easily given the attending medics the information they needed prior to their departure rather than in-flight.

What amazes me even more is that Shannon is obviously the one who name-dropped on our behalf. When the EMT's entered the hut, it was already decided that Shelby and I were to board with Jared and Shannon, and Shannon, who'd gone with Shelby to meet the crew, is the only one who could've possibly advocated for that exception to the traditional rule.

Shelby is less than enthusiastic about the flight. From the sophisticated medical equipment of the interior, the loud noise of the engine, to the high-pitched whine and jerk as we left the ground, she's wide-eyed and fearful.

"It's okay," I keep telling her as she clings to me, trembling. "I've ridden in these lots of times. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Shannon's on the floor with his back resting against an EKG machine. He's trying to stay out of the EMTs' way as they examine Jared, taking his vitals, asking questions about his fall and the snakebite. Shannon's got his phone in his hand, studying the screen, casting furtive glances at Jared as he's being worked on.

A gust of wind buffets the chopper slightly, and Shelby whimpers. "Shhh," I soothe her, wrapping my free arm around her. Jared's got my other hand in a firm grip as the splint is carefully untied and removed from his battered and discolored leg.

Shannon looks up from his phone. "Hey, Shelby," he says. "Have you ever played Candy Crush?"

"Huh?" Shelby turns her face from where it's buried in my side to look at Shannon. Another gust of wind jolts the helicopter and quickly she turns away again, clinging even tighter to me.

"Would you want to come over here and play this game?" Shannon asks her. His eyes meet mine and to my amazement, he gives me a half smile and a wink. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at it," he explains.

"Understatement of the year. You suck, bro," Jared says. He turns his brilliant, though pain-filled gaze to Shelby. "You know what, Shelby? I bet you'll kick his butt, even if you've never played Candy Crush before."

Shelby looks up at me, uncertainty in her eyes. I nod and say, "Go show him how it's done, kiddo."

"But I don't even know what he's talking about," she whispers.

"It's a game," I explain. "On his phone. You know, like Pokemon Go on Hannah and Grace's phones. Remember you girls playing that at home? You were really good at it."

Shannon grins. "Hey, I have Pokemon Go, too. Think we'll catch some up here?"

"Maybe," Shelby says tentatively. Slowly, she eases away from me and carefully steps around Jared's stretcher and the EMT's, making her way to Shannon where he's sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"Have a seat," he offers, indicating his lap. After a second of hesitation, she sits and takes the offered phone. Over her head, Shannon again smiles and winks at me.

Within minutes Shelby's forgotten where she is and the occasional wind gusts rocking the helicopter don't seem to bother her at all. She and Shannon catch a few Pokemon, and then when they're bored with that, he opens Candy Crush. Soon, she's relaxed and laughing, and yes, beating Shannon right and left.

Though Jared objects, saying he doesn't need it, I convince him of the wisdom in accepting a narcotic painkiller, delivered via the IV needle now seated in the back of his hand. Within minutes he's drowsily blinking and his words are slurring. As one of the EMT's examines his injured leg, flexing his foot and ankle, he barely flinches now. Several minutes ago the same manipulation elicited a howl.

"Sleep, Jared," I encourage him, smoothing his hair from his brow. "We'll be at the hospital before you know it."

"'Mmkay...but...don't...leave..." he mumbles. "Lanie...don't go..."

I'm not going to point out the fact that we're hundreds of feet in the air and in the tight, confined space of a medi-vac helicopter where I can barely turn around, making any notion of leaving quite impossible even if I wanted to. Which I don't. But Jared's drifting off to parts unknown and is probably barely even aware of where he is and what he's saying. "I'm staying right here," I assure him. I continue smoothing his hair from his brow as his eyes flutter closed, and stay closed.

 

***

 

As a result of my full report on Jared's injuries and the treatments I employed during the time he was in my care, by the time we touch down on the heli-pad atop Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles, the hospital is ready to receive him.

I depart the chopper right behind Shannon, who's trailing Jared's stretcher as they whisk him toward the elevator. He's awake, but barely. Shelby clings to my hand, staring around in amazement at the endless huge buildings of the city, the palm trees dotting the ground below, and the ocean in the distance. "Wow," she breathes. "It's so big. Like it's the whole world."

"L.A. is a very big city," I agree as I hurry her to the elevator. "Very loud, very crowded."

"Where's Jared's house?" she asks, looking around at the expanse of buildings surrounding the hospital. "Is it close by?"

"I have no idea," I tell her. Shannon holds the elevator door for us as we slip inside. It's a long, deep elevator, designed to accommodate patients on a stretcher. The steel door slides closed with a thump.

"They're prepped and ready," one of the EMTs tells us as he pushes the down button and the elevator begins its descent. "He'll go into the ER for a full assessment first, then to Radiology."

"Okay," Shannon nods. He indicates his phone. "Our mother texted a few minutes ago. She's waiting outside of the ER and Dr. Lange is with her." He glances at me. "That's the doctor he was seeing for his back and his ACL. He really is one of the best in the field."

"Good," I reply. Jared's going to need the best, especially if his ACL is re-injured on top of the fractures.  _Please let him regain full use of his leg,_  I pray. I cannot imagine what it'll do to Jared if he doesn't.

The elevator comes to a smooth stop and the doors open. We step out, the EMTs pushing Jared's stretcher. As we head toward the huge double doors with the illuminated red and white EMERGENCY sign above them, I glance around. Cedars-Sinai is a world-famous hospital, and I can see, cosmetically at least, that it lives up to its reputation. Everything is spotless, brightly lit, tastefully decorated in soothing hues of pale blue and peach, and the fixtures are ultra-modern. The waxed floor is so polished I can see our reflections in it.

A woman with long graying hair appears in the doorway as we approach, and even though I've never set eyes on her before, I know who she is immediately. There's no mistaking the shape and set of her worried, red-rimmed eyes, her fine facial features, the glow of vibrant youth and energy even though, with having two sons both well into their forties, she must be in her sixties. She sure doesn't look it.

"Mom," Shannon says as the woman hurries toward us, her eyes frantically darting between her sons, one rushing to meet her, the other on the stretcher between the two medics. "Mom, it's all right," Shannon soothes her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shaking shoulders. "He's gonna be okay."

"Jared." She lets out a little sob as she presses her hand to her mouth, the other grasping his limp one. "Oh, my God, Jared, thank God! What the hell were you  _thinking,_ going out there alone?"

"Ma..."Jared mumbles, opening his eyes. "Save...the lecture til...I can deal...with it."

A tall, movie-star handsome older man with dark hair shot through with silver approaches us. I'm guessing this is Dr. Lange, judging from the white coat, and the familiarity he seems to have with the Letos. "Shannon," he greets him with a handshake. "Good to see you again, though I wish it wasn't under these circumstances." He looks down at his patient. "Jared, Jared." He shakes his head. "You sure did it this time."

Jared manages a weak laugh. "Yeah. Anything...to keep you...in that...tacky gold...Rolls Royce, Doc."

Dr. Lange chuckles and Jared's mother looks our way. For the first time I realize that Shelby and I must look a sight among these illustrious people, in this fancy hospital. "You're Lanie?" she asks me. I search her clear eyes for disparagement, for disgust or revulsion. But I don't see any of that. I see her intense perusal, but without any of the judgment I expect. None whatsoever. It throws me off.

"Yes," I reply. I put my arm around Shelby. "This is my daughter, Shelby. She's the one who found Jared."

Tears fill the woman's eyes as she comes to us and, to my mortification, hugs both me and Shelby. My God, I've got days of dirt and sweat embedded in my skin, my clothes, my hair. I do my best to keep clean, but over a week without a proper bath is over a week without a proper bath. Shelby's just as filthy, if not worse.

"Thank you," she murmurs into my shoulder as tentatively, I hug the woman back. "Thank you is nowhere near enough."

"We're taking him in now," Dr. Lange informs us.

Jared's mother draws back, wiping her eyes. I move to Jared's side and pick up his hand. Holding it, I bend down and murmur, "You're going to be okay now, Jared. Your family's here with you, you're in a great hospital, and you're in good hands."

"That better...not be...a goodbye." Jared looks up at me, and he squeezes my hand back in a surprisingly strong grip. "Because...it sounds...like a...goodbye."

I can't answer that. I can't because in a way, maybe it is a goodbye. Jared's back home now in L.A. Things will be different here. _He_  will be different here. The man who gladly ate foraged wild food, peed in a bottle, kissed me and bared his soul won't exist in Hollywood. He  _can't_  exist in Hollywood.

The question is, who will replace him? And do I want to stick around and find out?

"You said...you'd stay," he whispers. Despite the heavy buzz from the painkillers, his eyes are still keeping vigil as intensely as ever, boring directly into me. He's still Jared. Right now, he's still here with me. "Lanie...please..."

"We're  _not_  gonna leave you," Shelby tells him. "Right, Mom?"

I close my eyes. "Right," I say faintly. "We're not going anywhere. I promise."

 

***

 

The surgical suite's waiting room is big and comfortable. A huge flat-panel television dominates the room on one wall, and an enormous aquarium is built into the opposite wall. Multi-colored, beautiful fish swim placidly back and forth under the blue lights glowing through the water, and Shelby's fascinated with both features of the room.

I'm not paying much attention to either TV or aquarium. My mind's wiped out from meeting Jared and Shannon's mother, from meeting his bandmate Tomo Milicevic and the unofficial fourth member of Thirty Seconds to Mars, Stevie Aiello. Both arrived a few hours ago while Jared was in having pre-op x-rays and an MRI done. They're in the cafeteria now, fetching coffee for Shannon, his mother, and me, and a lemonade for Shelby.

By the time Tomo and Stevie showed up I'd found a ladies room, where Shelby and I cleaned up as best as we could. And God, how we needed it. A change of clothes from our packs, a good scrubbing, and I felt, well, not like we belonged here, but like we didn't look like a pair of bums who'd wandered into this elite medical center by mistake.

It's hard to describe what it's like for someone like me to be so completely out of her element, because I tend to avoid situations in which I would be. I guess the best way to explain it would be  _Crocodile Dundee,_ and the way Mick fumbled his way around New York affluence, sticking out like a sore thumb no matter where he went.Honestly, it's not too far off the mark. I'm aware that L.A. is a bit different, and southern California as a whole is an anything-goes sort of place, but I'm not sure that openness extends as far as to someone like me and Shelby.

"You worry too much," Shannon, who's in the chair next to me, mutters from the side of his mouth.

I turn to him. "What are you talking about?"

"I can see it. You're nervous being here. Like you don't belong. Lanie, people in L.A. are no different than people anywhere else."

I stare at him. "Just this morning you were doing your damndest to convince your brother that we  _don't_ belong here."

Shannon sighs. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't really realize a lot of stuff then. I was sure you had an ulterior motive. And to be honest, I had a hard time believing you were completely unaware of who Jared is. That never happens. I mean, that  _never_  happens."

"So," I press, ignoring that last bit, "what changed?"

Shannon gestures at the door across the room, the one clearly marked SURGERY: NO ADMITTANCE. MEDICAL PERSONNEL ONLY in bold red letters. "Well, we've all been a little worried about him lately." He nods toward his mom whose name I now know is Constance. She's thumbing through a magazine without really reading it, every now and then looking up at the double doors, behind which a surgical team is putting her son's leg back together. She's sitting quietly, her legs crossed, a seemingly casual pose, but worried tension carves a line between her elegant brows.

Shannon continues, "He's so driven, so ambitious, such a perfectionist, and so determined to do it all, to be it all. He's always been that way, but especially since he broke out back in the nineties. And then, when Mars made it big too, that only expounded everything. It all finally got to him these past few months. He lost a couple of good friends in the business to suicide recently, and then...then there was this woman who really did a number on him."

"Katia."

Shannon's eyes hood over. "Yeah. Katia. You heard us talk about her. You'll meet her, and probably soon. She hasn't gone away quietly."

I pretend my stomach isn't in a knot, that a heavy buzzing isn't filling my head, that my heart isn't wanting to crash right through my rib cage, because I have no business reacting this way at all. "What happened with them?" I can't help but ask, and though I am speaking very quietly, my voice seems strained.

Shannon scowls. "She screwed him over. Bigtime. Figuratively, literally, pretty much any way one person can screw over another person, she did it. I won't get into details, though. That's for Jared to do if he wants to."

"Do you think she'll show up here?" I murmur.

"If she finds out he's here, I guarantee she'll show up. And make a production out of it."

"She'll come here even if he doesn't want her to? She sounds like a real piece of work."

Shannon scoffs. "Ha. You have no idea."

"Okay," I say slowly. "But I still don't get what changed since this morning where your opinion of me is concerned."

Shannon sighs.  _"Jared_  changed. Out there. I was too worried and too freaked out to realize it at first, but I finally got to see him when he's not 'on', and I saw the brother I grew up with, the one who used to struggle and face his issues instead of burying them behind the celebrity facade. When I really looked and listened, I saw him interact with you and your daughter in a way I never get to see anymore. I saw him smile and laugh,  _genuinely_  smile and laugh, even though he was laying there in pain with a busted leg in a little mud and stick shelter with no running water, no electricity, no toilet, eating foraged mushrooms and those godawful-looking pancake things, and he was  _smiling!_  That's the real Jared, and it was a beautiful thing to see." Shannon's eyes bore into mine. "For the first time in years he was able to interact with someone and just be a normal human being _._  In a way, you and your daughter saved his life in more ways than one, Lanie."

I have no idea what to say to this, and it's just as well that I don't try, since whenever I'm fumbling for something to respond with, the wrong thing always tends to come out. As I mutely absorb Shannon's words, Tomo and Stevie choose that moment to reappear in the waiting room, carrying paper cups of coffee as well as a bottle of lemonade for Shelby.

"Any word yet?" Tomo asks as he hands Shannon and I our coffee and settles into a chair on the other side of me, and Stevie brings Constance hers. She accepts it with a murmur of thanks, sets it on the table next to her, and goes back to the magazine. The line between her brows remains.

I hand Shelby her lemonade and Stevie takes a seat as I answer Tomo. "It'll be a little while before we hear anything. Depending on the type of fracture, how much soft tissue damage there is, and if he tore his ACL."

Tomo winces. "Ugh....this is gonna put him down for quite a while."

Shannon and I exchange a glance, and I'm sure we're both recalling our conversation that morning in the woods. "Yes," I say. "He faces a long recovery. A lot of physical therapy. And depending on how he heals, it's possible he may have to give up rock-climbing for good."

Stevie lets out a low whistle. "Man," he says, shaking his head. "I'd sure hate to be the one that has to tell him that."

It's another two hours before Dr. Lange steps into the waiting room. "Jared's in recovery now," he tells us. "You may see him shortly when he's moved to a room."

Constance is up from her chair in a flash. "How bad was it?" she asks.

Dr. Lange smiles. "Better than I expected, actually. The leg was set well, and the surrounding muscular and nerve tissue didn't suffer the catastrophic trauma that it might have otherwise, but there were some tears and a great deal of bruising. His ACL was slightly torn but we were able to repair it. All in all, I'd say Jared was quite lucky. It could have and really, should have been much worse." He pulls up his sleeve and glances at his watch. "It should be about a half hour and a nurse will come get you and take you to his room. Only a short visit tonight," he cautions. "He'll be extremely groggy, that is if he is awake at all, and he needs to rest."

"Thanks, Doc," Shannon says and shakes Dr. Lange's hand.

"You can thank me by keeping your brother from having to come back here," Dr. Lange replies with a smile.

 

The others go in to see Jared before I do. By the time the nurse comes to get me, Shelby's out cold on the sofa at the end of the Med-Surg hall, and I'm not too far behind. My eyelids seem determined to slam shut no matter how much coffee I consume to keep myself alert.

"I'll sit with her," Constance offers as she sits on the end of the sofa. "You go on ahead, Lanie. There's no need to wake her."

"Are you sure?" I murmur. Constance looks as exhausted and drained as I feel. Having gotten to see her son, she should be able to go home and get some much needed sleep, not sit with a child she doesn't even know. "I can wake her up."

"Oh, no. Let her sleep. The poor thing has had a long day and she's exhausted. It's no problem, Lanie." She smiles then, and immediately I can see where both of her sons get their smiles from. "Go on in and see him. He's awake and he's asking for you."


	9. Chapter Nine

Jared is lying still with his eyes closed when I step into his room. The fluorescent light over his hospital bed is on, casting his pale face with a slightly greenish hue. An IV tube runs from a bag on a pole and snakes under the blanket, while a device monitoring his vitals reads out data in green, yellow, and blue numbers. Some high tech stuff they have here at Cedars-Sinai. I don't doubt that the data is automatically uploading to an electronic patient file.

I take a seat next to his bed just as his eyes open. "Hey," he whispers, and smiles. His hand slides out from under the blanket and reaches out to me. I take it in my own. His skin is cool to the touch.

"Hey yourself. Welcome back." I rub his hand between my own. "Your doctor said you came through surgery great."

"Yeah. I guess so." He glances down at his leg, now immobilized in a solid cast. "Damn thing's all the way up to the middle of my thigh. Didn't think they'd have to put my whole leg in a cast."

"Yeah, but you tore your ACL a little, too."

Jared winces. "Great. I was afraid of that." He looks at me again, blinking sleepily. "I'm pretty doped up, but I wanted to see you and tell you I'm happy you decided to come to L.A."

I don't know if  _I'm_  happy or not to be in L.A., but I let his comment pass without remarking on it. At least I'm seeing first-hand that Jared's gotten the medical care he desperately needed. But part of me keeps thinking, over and over and over again,  _what the hell am I doing here?_

I think about the hours that Jared was in surgery and how Constance had, for a brief time, abandoned the magazine and joined Shelby in watching the fish in the big aquarium. I could tell she was seeking a distraction, and Shelby readily provided one. They'd talked about the fish, Constance explaining to Shelby the difference between saltwater and freshwater aquatic life, and then Shelby told Constance about finding Jared. But she never mentioned the fact that we'd heard him crying for help the night before, that I'd run and left him to suffer for hours in the dark alone. In fact, Shelby's never said a word to anyone about that. She's been lying to cover for my shame.

A renewed flood of guilt sweeps over me and I look down at the floor, struggling to contain my emotions. Through willful, selfish negligence, I could've killed this man who's clinging to my hand and telling me he's happy I'm here. I could've killed him, and I nearly did kill his brother.

_What the hell am I doing here?_

"You look...different. Changed clothes?"

I nod and smile wanly. "And cleaned up a little bit, too, as best as we could in the ladies' room."

"Where's Shelby?" Jared asks.

"She fell asleep. Your mom's sitting with her. She didn't have to do that. She should've gone home and gotten some sleep."

"Mmm." Jared closes his eyes. "Mom's waiting for you. She wants you and Shelby to stay at her place until I get out of here."

Startled by this revelation, I can only utter, "Oh." I don't know what else to say to that. I like Constance, though I haven't spent a whole lot of time talking with her. Other than the bit of time she had her attention on Shelby, she's been wholly concerned with her son and we haven't had much of a chance to talk. "No. I don't want to impose on her. I'll get a cheap motel room nearby."

Jared manages a weak laugh. "This is Los Angeles, Lanie. You don't want to stay in a 'cheap motel' in this town." He squeezes my hand. "Anyway, I won't hear of it. Neither will my mom. She's determined to bring you and Shelby home, and if I were you, I wouldn't try to argue the point with her."

So, I guess that settles it. I stay with Jared at his request until he falls asleep and a nurse comes in to change his IV bag. Then I slip out of the room and find Constance and Shelby where I left them at the end of the hall.

"He's asleep," I say.

Constance nods. "Did he mention my offer? About you and Shelby coming to stay at my place until he's released?"

I shuffle my feet awkwardly. "I don't want to put you to any trouble. I know how weird this all is."

The elder woman gets to her feet. Her remarkable eyes, which so resemble her sons', especially Shannon's, peer into mine. "Trouble? You saved my son's  _life,_ Lanie. And anyway, I live alone in a house that's far too large for me and my two dogs. It's no trouble. In truth I'd be grateful for the company, and I want to learn more about you. What I've heard is fascinating to say the least, and I think you'll find that we have some things in common." She glances at Shelby, who's curled up in a ball, her braids askew, her mouth slightly open in deep sleep. "She's such a beautiful child."

I follow Constance's gaze and smile faintly. "Yes, she is."

 

***

 

Constance Leto lives in a quiet, residential area about a half-hour's drive from the hospital. On the way, I gaze out at the endless miles of traffic, buildings and lights, awash in a vague sense of unreality that tends to show up around random corners in my mind. Shelby, roused briefly when I carried her to Constance's car, has quickly fallen asleep again in the backseat.

"Have you been to California before?" Constance asks as she comes to a stop at a red light.

"Yes, a short visit a long time ago," I answer. "I've actually traveled quite a bit, just not in the last few years." I don't mention that's because, during one of his days-long meth-fueled paranoid rages, Todd ripped up my passport as well as Shelby's that I'd just gotten for her in anticipation of a trip to Canada.

"Well, it's going to be an adjustment for you both, certainly. Jared told me you were a little reluctant to come here, and I can understand why you would be. But I know how persistent he is," Constance tells me with a rueful smile as the light changes to green and she steps gently on the gas. Well, not the gas—Constance drives a black Tesla that's both incredibly comfortable and incredibly quiet-running. It's the first all-electric car I've ever ridden in. "That persistence is both a blessing and a curse to him, and one he inherited from me."

"It's not just L.A. itself," I say with a sigh, wondering exactly how much Jared and Shannon have told their mother about me. About Todd. About why Shelby and I were in Oak Creek Canyon at the same time Jared was.

Apparently they've told her enough, because Constance's eyes leave the road briefly and meet mine. "I know it's not, Lanie. But I really do think you did the right thing. The safest thing, especially for that little girl. In time, you'll realize it, too."

I only nod, too tired to continue the conversation as the city continues to stream past my window, and endless stream of lights, buildings, traffic, and people. Unfamiliar sights, sounds, and smells assail my senses.  _I_  don't know if I've done the right thing. It's far too soon to say. I do know that I've been so wrapped up in Jared that I've lost sight of everything that until a few days ago, had occupied my every thought.

Todd. Still out there. Somewhere. Perhaps close by, perhaps still half the country away. I have no way of knowing right now. I'd planned to make some phone calls just before crossing into Mexico. A part of me wishes I could just forget about it, forget about Todd and everything he is and has done, and let myself get swept away in some kind of Cinderella fairy-tale fantasy that started the minute Jared kissed me.

No. Before that. Long,  _long_ before that.

Constance's home is a single-story rambler, quite nice in an unassuming sort of way, with a well-kept landscaped lawn from what I can see in the dark. As she turns into the driveway, a series of motion-activated floodlights switch on over the garage and next to the front door. From inside the house, I hear dogs begin to bark.

"Those two," Constance sighs resignedly. "We'd better get inside quick before they wake the whole neighborhood." She pushes a button on her visor and the attached double garage door opens. The barking is even louder now.

Shelby stirs as Constance drives in and parks. "Where are we?" she mumbles.

"You're at my house," Constance tells her as she shuts off the car.

"I wanna see Jared," Shelby complains. "How come I didn't get to see him?"

"You fell asleep," I explain. "We'll go back and see him tomorrow. Let's get you inside and into bed."

Yawning, Shelby grabs her backpack and follows me out of the car. Constance unlocks the door and ushers us both inside, flipping on a switch that lights up her living room. Two large dogs, both of them appearing to be lab and boxer mix, greet us, tails wagging enthusiastically.

Tentatively, Shelby reaches out a hand and one of the dogs covers it in sloppy kisses. "I love dogs," she says, petting the dog whose tail wags even harder.

"This is Roscoe and Polly," Constance tells us. "They're huge and loud but harmless. The guest room is the second door on the left. I think there might be a bunch of junk on the bed. I'll go look." She hurries off, both dogs following her.

I glance around uncertainly. Constance Leto's house is decorated in an understated and eclectic way, with an interesting mix of antiques and modern furnishings, and an array of photos on all of the walls. One wall in particular is devoted to both of her sons and I can't help but step closer and study the pictures. The photos feature Jared and Shannon in multiple environments; in the recording studio, on a mammoth concert stage, out on a hike with mountain scenery behind them, and Jared on stage receiving his 2014 Oscar for Best Supporting Actor.

"Wow," Shelby breathes beside me. I look down, startled, having forgotten she was even in the room. Shelby's staring at the pictures one by one, open-mouthed. "That's  _Jared?_ He's a singer? He's  _famous?"_ She points at a performance photo of Shannon during the era I remember him, with longer hair and wearing heavy black eyeliner. He's behind the drums, a fierce, intense expression on his face. "Look!" Shelby exclaims. "Shannon is, too!"

"Shannon's the drummer in Jared's band," I explain. "Yes, Jared is a musician  _and_  a very good actor." I point to the photo of Jared, Constance, and Shannon together, with Jared resplendent in a white tux, clutching his gold Oscar. With his hair falling around his shoulders and only a hint of beard stubble, he's absolutely stunning. "That's an Academy Award he's holding. That means he was the best actor in his category that year."

"Wow," Shelby whispers. Her eyes move to another photo, this one of Jared on stage, an endless sea of people in front of him. "He must be really, really good."

"Yes, he must be," I answer.

Constance returns to the living room where Shelby and I are looking at the many pictures of her sons, and she smiles. "Jared changes his look quite a lot, doesn't he?"

I think about the blonde-streaked emo-punk boy fourteen years ago, all of the changes since which are on display on this wall, and the heavily bearded, chestnut-haired man I instantly recognized the moment I saw him. "But those eyes and that smile never change," I say softly, almost to myself.

 

Before letting Shelby crawl into the clean bed with its crisp pale blue sheets, I unbraid her hair and make her shower in the bedroom's en-suite. She does so more than willingly, groaning with pleasure at the hot water, fragrant soap, and shampoo washing away days worth of grime. "Jared'll probably never recognize you," I tell her when she comes out wrapped in a soft, fuzzy towel, her hair clinging in damp tendrils to her face. I'm dying for a shower myself, even though it means staying up even longer until my hair is completely dry.

When I'm done showering, I feel almost like a different person. But only almost. The layers of grime and sweat are gone, but...I towel off and I stare at myself as the mirror clears itself of fog. I take in my appearance with a critical eye I'm now incapable of blinding.

I'm clean at long last, but I still look like...well, like Lanie. The same tanned skin, the same unkempt, straggly dark blonde hair with dreads interspersed throughout, and wide-spaced greenish-hazel eyes. Thin face, lines of tension around the mouth, more lines of weariness around the eyes. A woman who's far more at home in the wild than in suburban Los Angeles as the guest of a grateful mother who believes I'm some kind of heroine, when I'm anything but.

 _What the hell am I doing here?_ That question replays itself over and over in my head as I brush my teeth, pull on a clean pair of panties and a favorite oversized flannel shirt, and leave the bathroom.

Shelby's already asleep, her towel protecting her pillow from her damp hair. I work my towel through mine until it's reasonably dry, and finally I slide in between the luxurious sheets. I'm so tired. I've never been so tired, and despite the turbulence in my mind, I'm very quickly asleep.

 

***

 

We arrive at Cedars-Sinai shortly after nine the next morning. Constance parks the Tesla and glances around, her eyes covered in shades, before moving to open her door. There's a new kind of tension in her this morning that wasn't present last night or this morning as we ate a breakfast of surprisingly good vegan waffles and fresh fruit, and I wonder what's bothering her, why she keeps looking around the parking ramp. I see a few people going in and out, a couple of them in scrubs. Constance watches them, and heaves a sigh, reaching for her purse and opening her door.

"I'm looking for the pap," she explains when I ask her what's wrong. "It's only a matter of time before they show up. I was sure one was following us since Westwood."

"Pap?" I frown. "What's that?"

"Paparazzi," she explains, glancing around again. "Let's get inside."

Paparazzi. I might be completely foreign to celebrity life, but I do know what paparazzi are. They're one of my worst fears about being in L.A. While Todd's more a fan of Alex Jones than TMZ, it's inevitable that at some point, should someone snap our picture, he'll see it.

"Shit," I murmur and I hurry Shelby along as the three of us enter the hospital.

Just outside Jared's room, a bald African-American man about my age and with the build of an ox lounges in a chair, studying his phone. Constance lets out a quiet sigh at the sight of him. She visibly relaxes, and I understand now. The man is a hospital security officer, or perhaps a member of Jared's own security detail.

"Hi, Jimmy," Constance greets him. Yep, he's definitely with Jared's personal security.

"Good morning, Ms. Leto," Jimmy replies, his stoic face unchanging. Jimmy glances at me and Shelby. "You're Lanie and Shelby?"

"That's right," I affirm.

"Jimmy Quentin, Mr. Leto's chief of security," he says, and rises to his full height of six feet, four inches. He puts out his hand, and mine disappears completely in its firm grip. "Very pleased to meet you both." He then extends his hand to Shelby, who's staring up at Jimmy like he's got two heads.  _Please don't say anything embarrassing,_  I plead silently. Todd's most recent paranoid rants were often interlaced with racist diatribes, and I know Shelby's heard them because I'd been forced to explain the meanings of several derogatory slurs. I've done my absolute best to keep her father's vile teachings from sinking into Shelby's impressionable mind, and I can only hope I've succeeded. Shelby's very seldom ever even seen black people except on TV.

But Shelby only looks up at him in awe as she shakes his big hand. "Wow. Are you like a football player or something?"

Jimmy's impassive face cracks into a sudden friendly grin. "No. I was a pro wrestler awhile back, though. Ever watch WWE?"

"Uh-huh," Shelby nods. "On TV. It's all fake though."

Jimmy's grin broadens and a chuckle rumbles from his chest. "Yeah, I didn't do so great with it. I quit wrestling and now I work for Mr. Leto."

"Have there been any...problems?" Constance murmurs to him.

"None yet. So far, all quiet," he assures her. "Can't expect that to last though, 'n that's why I'm here."

"Thank you, Jimmy," Constance tells him, and nods at the closed door. "Is he awake?"

"Yeah. His doc's with him, n' from the sounds of it, your boy's none too happy this morning."

"Shelby and I will wait," I tell Constance as I lead Shelby to a seat by Jimmy. I don't feel it's my place to listen in on a conversation with his doctor, especially not if Jared's having a rough morning. He's probably in pain and trying to get used to the heavy cast on his leg. The last thing he needs right now is the two of us distracting him.

"Well...all right," she murmurs. "It shouldn't be long. I know he really wants to see the two of you." She turns and steps inside Jared's room, closing the door behind her.

Shelby's not happy about being kept outside and makes it known. "I wanna see him. He said I could sign his cast as soon as he gets it put on. And now it's on, right?" She slumps in her chair, staring sullenly at the floor.

"Just wait until Dr. Lange is done talking to him," I reply.

"Yeah, but—" she sighs heavily.

"Hey, Shelby," Jimmy says. "So how old are you?"

Shelby looks up at him. "I just turned eleven last month."

"Really!" Jimmy exclaims. "What grade are you in?"

"I'm not in school right now, but when I go back, I'll be in fifth grade," she tells him.

Jimmy smiles at her, his cocoa-brown eyes kind and soft, wholly at odds with his otherwise tough, imposing demeanor. "My boy Tyrell is your age. He's almost eleven and in fifth grade. He goes to Canyon View Elementary School, just up the road not even a minute from Mr. Leto's house. Since you're going to live there too, you'll go there, and maybe even be in Ty's class."

"Yeah?" Shelby turns to me. "That would be cool, huh?"

I squirm. Even Jared's chief of security, the guy I figured would be the last to welcome us, acts as though Shelby and I are going to move into Jared's huge mansion and settle right in. Everyone seems to think this is all set in stone. Everyone, that is, except me.

"Sure," I answer weakly. "Listen, Shelby, I really don't—"

A sudden commotion near the elevator bank interrupts me. There's a female voice, heavy with an accent I can't identify at first. Whoever she is, she sounds pissed off, and getting more pissed off by the second.

Jimmy's instantly alert. He pockets his phone and gets to his feet faster than I imagine a man his size can move. "Excuse me, ladies," he says, and with a muttered curse, he sets off toward the elevator bank.

The woman continues speaking angrily. I now hear Shannon's voice as well as Jimmy's as he rounds the corner by the nurse's station. Around the thick accent I begin to decipher her words, and all at once I know exactly who the woman is. Curiosity compels me to go see what she looks like, to see if my imagination is anything close to accurate, but at the same time I seem rooted to my chair and unable to move as the woman continues arguing.

"What you mean Jared  _refuses_  to see me? This...this is  _ridiculous!"_ she exclaims.

"Geez," Shelby murmurs. "That lady sounds like Natasha on  _Bullwinkle."_

There's a string of foreign words, but interspersed in them, I hear his name again.

I hate the way she pronounces it— _Jal-led_.

I hate her voice.

I hate her accent.

And even though I know I have absolutely no earthly justification to, I hate  _her._

At last silence descends, and a moment later Jimmy returns, followed by Shannon. He spies me sitting outside Jared's room and gives me a wave and a half smile. "Hey, Lanie. Hi, Shelby."

"Hi," we say in unison. I nod toward the nurse's station. "Everything okay?"

Shannon looks grim. "Word's gone out about Jared being here. By noon it'll have gone viral." He points with his thumb over his shoulder. "Katia was here. Making a production out of it, just like I said she would."

"Yeah. I heard her."

"She'll be back. With her father, no doubt." He looks at Jared's closed door. "Is my mom in with him? Why are you guys sitting out here?"

"Yeah, she's in with him. So is Dr. Lange." I shrug. "I didn't think we should be in there while his doctor's with him. That's a private thing, just for family."

Shannon glances at Jimmy. "See what I mean?" he says with that crooked half-grin.

Jimmy looks at me and nods. "Uh-huh. Sure do."

I frown, looking from one man to the other. "What?"

But Jimmy and Shannon just exchange another knowing smile, and then Jared's door opens and Dr. Lange steps out.

"Morning, Doc," Shannon greets him.

"Shannon, hello," Dr. Lange replies. He sees me then and smiles. "Ah, Lanie and Shelby, isn't it?"

I nod.

"I've been hoping to have a word with both of you. Of course, you'd probably like to see Jared first."

"If it's all right, yes, we would," I say.

"Of course. Go right in." Dr. Lange indicates the open door.

"Thank you." I rise and take Shelby's hand and we step inside Jared's room.

Constance is standing with her back to me, looking out the expansive window. She's speaking, and Jared's attention is wholly on her. He doesn't see us come in.

"But I just don't understand," Constance is saying, "why she would play these games and keep a secret this big from you, all for her own selfish gain. Who even  _does_ that?"

As I hear her words my entire body goes cold, and then numb.  It's like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. Cold dread coils in my stomach. My head begins to spin and my heart drops to my toes. I want to race out of the room before either of them see me. Race from the room, race from the hospital, from the city, state and country. I can't bear to see their faces looking at me with total disillusionment. I can't bear to have Jared look at me and in his eyes, see the person I really am.

And so it takes a moment for me to realize that Jared has turned, has seen me and Shelby there, that Shelby's left my side and hurried to him. She's now leaning over and giving Jared a hug, which he's returning as best as he can with an IV tube sticking out of one hand. He's looking over her shoulder at me, that familiar warmth in his eyes and smile. No trace of anger, hurt, or disillusionment anywhere in his face.

"Are you all right, Lanie?" Constance asks me as I stand there in total confusion. 

What the hell just happened here?


	10. Chapter Ten

Shelby takes an inordinate amount of time choosing a spot on which to sign Jared's cast. When she finally selects one, she writes her name slowly and carefully, using a hot pink sharpie borrowed from the nurse's station.

"Wait. I'm not done," she says when I hold my hand out for the marker.

"What do you mean, you're not done? You signed your name," I say.

Shelby just grins, turns back to Jared's cast, and begins to draw something next to her name.

"Oh, no," I groan when I see what she's doing. "Shelby..."

Constance peers over Shelby's shoulder to look. "I think it's perfect," she says.

I look helplessly at Jared, but he's watching what Shelby's doing, a smile playing at his lips. "So do I," he says. "You're really quite the little artist."

"Ta-da," Shelby proclaims, stepping away, allowing us to admire the pink hearts and butterflies she's drawn. "You like it?" she asks him.

"I love it. Thank you, Shelby" he tells her. "You're very sweet, and very talented. Like your mom." His eyes meet mine and I lose my breath a little. What this man can do to me...just one look, one word with that low, smooth melodic voice, and my brain turns to mush. It's ridiculous.  _I'm_  ridiculous.

I'm not sure what passes between Jared's mom and him in those few seconds, but Constance says, "Shelby, would you like to go see another aquarium? There's one on this floor too, even bigger than the one downstairs. It's another saltwater tank and this one has starfish in it."

"Yeah!" Shelby exclaims. "Mom, can I?"

I nod mutely and Constance smiles, her eyes flitting between her son and me for a split second before she and Shelby leave the room.

There's a silence then, a silence between Jared and I that seems to grow and thicken with every passing second. I glance at the door, waiting for Shannon, Dr. Lange, Jimmy, or a nurse to enter and end the moment. But nobody comes in.

In the hall I hear a soft ping and the sound of the PA system calling for a Dr. Oliver to come to Oncology. I hear the soft hum of the air conditioner. I hear the quiet whir of Jared's IV as it dispenses a miniscule dose of morphine.

"Lanie," Jared breaks the silence, his voice soft. I look at him, and his eyes are on me. "I...uh...was hoping you'd be willing to...help me with something."

"What is it?" I ask, my voice equally soft, mesmerized under his intense, almost pleading gaze. My heart's racing, and a thousand possibilities rush through my mind about what he might need help with. I can fully admit I'd love to help him with any number of things right now, the way he's looking at me.

Jared's pale face flushes a little. Without breaking eye contact he says, "Um. Remember in Oak Creek Canyon, when I said I didn't want you to have to help me with...something?"

I frown, puzzled. "Not really."

"A...bathroom thing," he explains, his face reddening further. It's kind of adorable, really, and then I remember what it was that had made him so uncomfortable to ask my help with.

Oh.  _That._ I'm pulled back to down earth with a jolt, and before I can stop myself, I begin to laugh.

"Oh, God, Lanie, I'm sorry. Forget it," Jared mumbles, throwing his arm over his face. The IV tube hits his bed rail with a ping. "I just...I don't want some random nurse helping me with it."

"No, don't be sorry," I say hurriedly. "I totally understand. I'm sorry I laughed. I didn't mean to."

Jared moves his arm away from his face and his blush fades a little. "I guess you saw all the photos and shit my mom's got in her living room."

I nod, not exactly getting the point. "She's very proud of you both."

"Yeah. I've done okay; more than okay, but you know, with that success comes a pretty heavy price, sometimes in things people don't really think about. One is a situation like this. One minute some nurse I've never spoken to or seen before is helping me sit on the shitter. And the next, the color, consistency and smell is tabloid news."

While I can't possibly put myself in Jared's place, his expression says it all and I don't have to. I find myself empathizing, even though I cannot imagine how something so ordinary, so part of the natural human condition as needing assistance going to the bathroom, becomes something so problematic that he has to give it such careful consideration.

 

Once he's back in his bed, Jared turns to me and says, "So listen. That couldn't have been very pleasant for you. I know it wasn't for me."

Well, no, it wasn't, but it needed to be done. I shrug. "Like I said the other day, it's a perfectly normal bodily function. When you gotta go, you gotta go."

Jared manages a smile. "God, I like that so much about you, Lanie. You're so matter-of-fact about everything. Nothing really fazes you. Nothing about me, especially."

Oh God. If he only knew how much everything about him fazes me. "Should it?" I question.

Jared shrugs. "When you came into my room a bit ago and the way you were staring at me, you had a kind of freaked-out look, the look I see in a lot of people, but I've never seen that look in you until now. But I get it. That damn wall in my mom's house with all the pictures. It was a lot for you to take in at once, I guess."

I close my eyes. No, that freaked-out look was guilt, until I realized Constance wasn't even talking about me at all, but about Katia Valkov. "Yeah, it is a lot to take in," I manage.

"Yeah, well, there's something else I want to talk to you about, too."

"What is it?" I ask, opening my eyes again.

"Well, I know you're a little overwhelmed, what with being here in L.A., realizing that yeah, I'm pretty famous and all that, and you're feeling a little lost and out of your element here."

 _Understatement of the century_. I nod. "Yeah. I am. All of that and more." I gaze out the window at the California sunshine. "I—I don't know what I'm supposed to do here. Until Todd is dealt with, I have to keep both Shelby and me under the radar, but I'm not someone who can just sit around."

"I know that," Jared answers. "No more than I am. I also know that for the next several weeks, maybe even months, I'm going to be doing a lot of sitting around, and I'll be a total asshole to people as a result. I'll drive every single member of my staff insane. I wouldn't be surprised if they all quit on me." He pauses and then says, "I want to offer you a job, Lanie."

"A...job?" I blink. "Doing what?"

"Being my constant companion. Helping me get back on my own two legs as soon as possible. At times acting as a buffer between me and other people. Kicking my ass and adjusting my attitude when I need it. A sort of home care nurse, physical therapist, and personal assistant all rolled into one. But most of all, being a good friend." He smiles. "You'll be well compensated beyond just having a safe and secure place for you and Shelby to sleep at night."

"Jared," I say, reaching out and rubbing his arm, "letting us stay in your house is more than enough compensation. I don't want to take your money. Besides, a good friend isn't a friend at all if there's ulterior motivesor financial benefit attached."

Jared laughs softly. "Yeah. I knew you'd say that." Then his smile fades. "But in this town, relationships of all kinds, even the most personal ones, are built around those very principles, in one way or another." He blinks several time and sighs. "Okay, you're right. We'll scratch the friend part. But I'm not letting you be at my beck and call night and day and put up with all of my bullshit without being well reimbursed for your time and trouble. You need the money and trust me, Lanie, you'll earn every penny of it. So...do you accept?"

Despite a voice inside wondering just how much bullshit I'll have to put up with—my tolerance for bullshit is pretty much zero—I nod. Because perhaps that's exactly what Jared knows he needs the most—someone to keep him grounded, real, and sane. I only hope I can keep myself sane as well, and my intense attraction to him well-hidden and under control. "Yes," I tell him, "I accept."

 

A little while later, Dr. Lange invites Shelby and I into his office where we tell him how Shelby found Jared—again, with her skipping the part about hearing and leaving him the night before—and, thanks to my wilderness EMT training, I was able to stabilize him and pull him back from the brink of death.

"Amazing," Dr. Lange says. "Utterly amazing. To think, with all of the advancements in modern medicine, and you were able to save his life without so much as electricity. Truly incredible." He sits back in his comfortable-looking leather office chair and folds his hands in his lap. "Had you not set his leg as well as you did and kept him still, the tissue damage could have been far worse. As I'm sure you know, Lanie, there are branches of the femoral artery in close proximity to the tibia and fibula. Had one of them been nicked or severed...." he shakes his head. "Jared could have lost enough blood internally to kill him. It's truly miraculous that you found him when you did, Shelby. The snake venom alone was lethal enough. But even without that—if he'd moved just the wrong way and one of those broken bones had hit an artery, there certainly would have been a very different outcome."

My daughter and I exchange a glance, and I swallow past an enormous obstruction in my throat. "Yes," I whisper. "I know."

Dr. Lange blessedly moves on to discuss my use of intravenous CroFab for the snakebite, colloidal silver for the ensuing infections, and the aloe vera paste as a topical. He listens intently as I tell him about growing up in northeastern Minnesota near the Superior National Forest and Boundary Waters Canoe area. I describe how from an early age my dad taught me self-sufficiency and survival skills, and how I'd gone on to attend school to further my training. I tell him about working in Search and Rescue as well as with our local fire department.

"So, how about you, Shelby?" Dr. Lange asks her. "I'm so impressed at your age that you have all of this knowledge and skill. Would you like to be an EMT someday like your mom, or perhaps become a nurse or a doctor?"

Shelby shakes her head. "I want to be an actor, like Jared."

I glance at her in surprise. Shelby's never professed any interest in acting before. "An actress," I correct her. "Girls are actresses."

"Yeah. I want to be an  _actress,_  but I want to be in action movies, not dumb mushy romantic ones."

Dr. Lange laughs. "Well, I think you'd be a fine actress, Shelby."

 

***

 

As Shannon predicted, Katia Valkov returns to the hospital that afternoon. This time I see her for the first time, as I'm returning from dropping Shelby at the hospital's teen room to play video games. Katia steps out of the other elevator at almost the same time that I exit mine. She's on her phone and as she speaks, I immediately recognize her voice.

She's much younger than I'd imagined, no older than perhaps twenty-five. I can't take my eyes off of her.

Tall, check.

Light brown hair, curled in a few soft spirals that tumble down her back without a hint of frizz or split ends, check.

Thin to the point of anorexia without the slightest bump of muscle definition, check.

Exotic, green cat eyes, check.

Cheekbones that could cut butter, check.

Pale, flawless skin, check.

Perfect but very understated makeup, check.

Beautifully dressed in an expensive-looking white mini-dress that barely skims the hem of her non-existent ass, paired with calf-high black heeled boots made of some kind of soft leather, check.

Regal, cold demeanor, check.

Carefully blank, imperious expression as she sweeps up and down the corridor, check.

Shit. Shit, shit,  _shit._  Jimmy's not at his post outside Jared's door right now. Shannon's not on the floor, either. He and Constance are in Dr. Lange's office, discussing Jared's post-release physical therapy needs. There isn't even a nurse behind the station desk across from the elevators. All that stands between Katia Valkov and Jared is me.

Is running interference between them part of my new job description? Jared's never mentioned it. Would he want me to enforce his wishes not to see his ex-girlfriend? I have no idea, but I assume so, since he's previously made it clear he doesn't want her here. Okay, so, how do I do this? I'm not good at confrontations, never have been, and especially not with a complete stranger, even one I loathe, however irrationally that I do. Bottom line, this woman intimidates the hell out of me, and I have no idea what to do.

Katia turns in my direction and looks right at me. Correction—she looks right  _through_  me, as if I'm not even there. She breezes past with a dismissive glance, muttering something to whoever she's talking to on her phone. A waft of perfume passes over me in her wake.

Does she know what room Jared's in? If so, how did she get that information? As she strides in exactly the right direction, I swallow hard and make a decision.

"Ms. Valkov?"

Katia stops and turns, her eyes piercing right through me but not quite meeting mine. She slips her phone into her bag. "Yes?" she snaps.

Unnerved, I summon up my courage and inject as much authority into my voice as I can manage. "Jared has requested that you not be allowed to visit him. I know you're aware of this."

Katia's eyes flash. "And who are  _you?"_  Strange, her accent is nowhere near as pronounced as it was when she was here earlier.

I cross my arms in front of my chest. "I'm Jared's new assistant." Boy, does that sound odd.

Katia's narrowed eyes sweep me up and down, and her lips curl in a sneer of disgust.  _"Really._ Where the hell did he dig  _you_ up?"

Now I'm no longer intimidated. Now, I'm pissed. "He doesn't want you here." I speak between clenched teeth. "I don't want to make a scene and call security to have you escorted from the premises, but I will." Of course, that's probably exactly what this bitch wants. A scene. Her flair for the dramatic is palpable. But why? What can she possibly get out of chasing a man who wants nothing more to do with her?

Katia smiles, revealing blindingly white, perfectly straight teeth. "Well, whoever you are or  _claim_  you are, obviously you're not much of an assistant if you don't know that Jared  _personally_  called and invited me to visit him." With that, she turns and sweeps into Jared's room, the heels of her boots clicking on the polished linoleum.

She knows what room he's in. I've allowed her to go into his room. Already, I've failed at my job. _Shit!_ I cringe, waiting for the explosion.

It doesn't come.

I hurry to Jared's room, trying to formulate how to apologize for this first colossal fuckup. I step in, the words racing up my throat, and I stop so abruptly that I nearly lose my balance.

Jared's half sitting up. Katia's leaning over his bed, her skirt hiking up even further into dangerous territory. They're embracing, and their mouths are joined in a fevered kiss.


	11. Chapter Eleven

I silently back out of Jared's room and stumble my way to the chair outside the door most recently occupied by Jimmy. I know I can't go much further than this, so I sit there, my head in my hands, trying to process what I've just witnessed.

Jared. Katia. They're back together? When? How?  _Why?_

And why is there a stabbing ache tearing through me right now?

I know why and this realization changes everything, puts all of it into sharp perspective where it belongs, where it should have stayed.

I'm sitting here like an idiot, wanting to cry, and jealousy's eating me alive. I'm fucking  _jealous!_ Jared Leto would never have been interested in someone like me in the first place, so I have no  _reason_  to be jealous. I'm not on the same playing field as Katia Valkov. Not even close, no matter what she did to screw him over. I still don't know what it was that broke them up, but it doesn't even matter now. Whatever it was, Jared's obviously forgiven her.

Sure, he kissed me out there in Oak Creek Canyon, and for those few minutes, yeah...I wouldn't be human if I didn't entertain at least the hope that the intense rush of feeling that filled me is mutual. But just like I did that night at the State Fair, I should've come to realize that Jared and I are two different people in two different places in life. He was playing a part even back then, the part of a burgeoning, unbelievably gorgeous rock star with all that being an unbelievably gorgeous rock star entails. And the other morning in Oak Creek Canyon, he just did what he knew would win an argument with me.

Through the roaring whirlwind in my head, I think about what being Jared's 'constant companion' will now entail in light of Katia's re-entry into his life, and it's clear that my zero-bullshit tolerance level is going to lose me this job before it's barely begun. Even if I'm 100% realistic about where Jared and I stand, I detest that woman and I won't be able to hide it.

As I sit there with my head in my hands, I finally admit it to myself. Down inside me, underneath the awful, nauseating jealousy, what I am more than anything is _pissed_. Because what it really boils down to is that I'm good enough to help Jared go to the bathroom and wipe his ass—something he'd no more ask the ice queen to do than she'd ever dream of doing it—but the ice queen gets his love.

Pissed, jealous. What's the difference? I fooled myself into a place where both can thrive inside me and I hate myself for it.

Well, fuck it, then. Fuck  _him._ They're welcome to each other.

The silent makeout session in his room is continuing, and I want to get up and walk away before they talk. I have no desire to listen to how much Jared missed her, or that he forgives her transgressions, whatever those may be. But I'm rooted to the spot. As much as I don't want to listen to them as they begin speaking, even going so far as to plug my ears like a little kid, I begin to pick up on every single word despite myself. Damn my excellent hearing and damn my body for refusing to leave this chair.

"Do you see now?" I hear Jared say. "It meant  _nothing._ I felt  _nothing._  Not jack shit." A pause. "They don't give out Oscars to bad actors, Katia."

"Mmm. You invite me here and kiss me to prove you don't care about me? How ridiculous. I don't believe you, Jared. I know you too well. You want to fuck me again, I can see it. And you  _will_  fuck me again."

"No, I invited you here to tell it straight to your face that I'm over it. Believe whatever spins around in that twisted head of yours, Katia. Go tell it to Kris. You remember Kris, the husband you were supposed to leave, the one you somehow neglected to mention to me for three goddamned months? The one you as well as your father conspired with to use me to further your career?"

"Oh, Jared. It may have started that way, I admit, but..." her voice takes on a light, lilting quality. "Darling, Kris and I have an understanding. You of  _all_  people should know that Kris has other...interests." A short silence. "I allowed you time to get past all of this, and to think about what damage you could do to yourself if you end it between us. I was certain you'd have come to your senses by now." Jared says nothing to this, and in a low steely voice, no longer lilting or playful, Katia says, "I'd hate to think you're telling the truth, Jared, that you truly no longer want to spend time with me. I'd hate for Papa to think it."

"You're threatening me?" Jared's voice has a note of amusement but I detect the edge, the venom beneath it. "Really, Katia, that's pathetic. Reduced to threats to keep a fake boyfriend. Doesn't speak too highly of you, does it?"

There's a bang against the wall behind me, and a clatter as whatever was thrown falls on the floor.  The thick Russian accent makes a sudden reappearance as she hisses, her voice trembling,  _"Damn_  you! You will not screw this up for me and humiliate me, Jared! Not if you know what's good for you! You cannot  _do_  this to me!"

Jared's voice is a lethal snarl. "Get out of here, Katia, and don't come back. Don't call, text, message me on any socials, and don't even  _think_  about coming near my house, my family, or my friends."

"You...you  _bastard!_  You'll regret this. I promise you that!"

"Believe me, I already do," Jared calls after her as Katia storms out of his room, not giving me so much as a passing glance as she flees down the hall toward the elevator bank.

I'm stunned by what I've overheard. Completely stunned. And while I don't have a full picture of what went on between Jared and Katia, I've now certainly gotten a better idea of their relationship, and it doesn't escape my notice that not once did Katia inquire or show the slightest concern about Jared's well-being or what he'd been through.

I wait a few minutes before stepping into his room. Jared's powered his bed down some, and his arm is thrown across his face, hiding his expression. I watch him for a few moments, wondering if I should say anything or if he'd prefer to be left alone.

I'm just about to turn and leave the room again when Jared moves his arm and sees me. Quickly he turns away, wiping at his face, but not before I see the tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I begin, not totally sure what I mean by that.

"It's okay," he says, drawing a deep, shaking breath.. "I needed to get that over with." He beckons me to him. "Come here, Lanie."

I go to the chair next to his bed, but Jared stops me. "Not on the chair. Here." He points to the bit of space next to him, directly on the bed itself.

"Oh, I can't," I protest. "There's not room for me."

"Sure there is. Just come here and lay on your side by me."

"W-what?" I stammer.

"I mean, unless you don't want to," he shrugs. "I just...never mind." He looks away. "Goddamnit, I hate how I sound right now."

I stand beside his bed. "Like how?"

"Needy. I'm not like this. Or, I never used to be like this. Being vulnerable isn't something I'm used to. It really kind of sucks."

I carefully sit on the edge of the bed and study my careworn fingernails. "I tried to keep her from coming in here. But she said you'd called and invited her."

"Uh-huh. I did. As soon as she found out where I am she started in, first on me, then on Stevie, who's the only one that hadn't blocked her yet. She also tipped off the paparazzi, knowing it'll make everyone's life hell, not just mine. I knew she wouldn't stop unless I told her directly and face to face that I'm through playing her fucked up games, so I did."

I keep studying my fingernails. "Yeah. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but I heard quite a bit of it. I'm sorry."

Jared shakes his head. "It's okay."

"Do you really think she'll retaliate somehow?"

"I don't know, and I don't know how she could without making herself look ridiculous, spiteful and petty, but with Katia and her father, you can never be sure. Ivan Valkov is...well, he's a rich, powerful prick who can buy and sell a hundred guys like me, and believe me, he does. He pretty much masterminded whatever passed for a relationship between us, to give Katia a PR boost. She couldn't get it any other way, sure as hell not from her acting talent. There are a very few things in this world money just can't buy, and respect as a true artist? That's one of them." Jared scoots over a little more. "Can you move my leg over this way a little?"

"Sure." I gently lift his cast and the pillows supporting it, sliding it over a few inches. "How's that?"

"I don't know. Lay down with me and see."

I stare down at him. "Jared, I really don't think that's a good idea."

"I think it's a great idea. Come on." He pats the vacant space beside him. "Please."

I hesitate for one more second and then, carefully, gingerly, I lay down beside him. Immediately his arms slide around me, pulling me tightly against his body, and I completely stiffen up.

"This would be a whole lot nicer if I didn't feel like I was holding a board. Relax, Lanie."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Why not? Because his body is pressed against mine, that's why not. Because I can feel the rise and fall of his chest against my cheek. Because his lips are only inches away. Because his arms around me are the most incredible, wonderful things I've ever felt, next to his lips on mine. Because anyone...his mother, his brother, Shelby, Dr. Lange, Jimmy, one of the floor nurses...any one of them could walk in on us right now and the awkwardness of that would be unbearable. And finally, because all those feelings are coming back, those feelings that maybe...maybe...

But that passionate kiss I witnessed between him and Katia was nothing more than an act on his part. Which begs the obvious question...when is Jared acting and when isn't he? How can I tell?

"I just...can't," I whisper. "Anyway, I didn't know this was in my job description."

Jared's chest rises and falls in a long sigh. "Look at me," he commands softly.

I tilt my head upwards. His eyes are so very close, so very blue. "No, it's not in your job description. And this is definitely not part of your job either, but I'd give anything to kiss you right now."

I can't say a word. I can only stare at him, and at those lips, remembering how they felt on mine. My head swims and a warm flush permeates the rest of my body.

Jared's smile is rueful. "But I  _can't_  kiss you right now. I'd need to have you do something for me first. It would require you to get up again, and I really don't want you to. Not yet."

"What is it you need me to do?" My voice is breathy, soft, and sounds nothing like my own.

"I want my toothbrush and toothpaste." He makes a face. "I kissed Katia. I want to get that bitch out of my mouth."

 

I wait beside the bed as Jared brushes his teeth, spitting the paste in the cup of water he dipped his brush in, then rinsing from water in another cup. I take the brush and cups and empty the cups in the bathroom sink, then set the brush down. Then I return to Jared, wondering if the spell's been broken. It probably is, and I know that's for the best. My emotions are running way too high to think clearly, but think clearly I must. Jared's made me his employee, and as such I need to stop thinking about him in ways that I absolutely shouldn't be. And he needs to stop making me lose all sense of perspective.

But Jared smiles and beckons me toward him, and I know he wants me to lay next to him again, and he's going to kiss me and I'm going to let him and I'm going to lose my mind once more.

I slide back onto the bed and Jared's arms close around me. But this time, he doesn't hesitate at all. His mouth finds mine almost instantly. Despite the softness of his lips, there's strength in his kiss, in the way his tongue slips into my mouth and finds mine, and I know he can feel the way I tremble in his arms as his kiss reverberates through me, all the way down to my toes.

Just like the first time, Jared moans, a low sound deep in his throat. And this time, so do I. His fingers plunge into my hair and twist it like before, and the kiss goes on and on.

Vaguely at first, then with sharp awareness, I realize that his hands have left my hair and are traveling down my back, where he presses me even more intimately close. He's also somehow managed to turn on his side and between my clothes and the thinness of his hospital gown I can feel him... _all_  of him...rocking gently but insistently against a part of me that's coiled and tense, hot and pleading for more.

 _My God. Oh, my God_.

"Oh, my God."

That isn't my thoughts. Those are words spoken aloud, and not by me or by Jared.

That is someone else in the room.

That is Shannon.

I freeze, and Jared pulls away from me with a sigh. He casts a disgusted look at his brother, who's standing in the doorway looking almost as embarrassed as I feel, and all I want to do is crawl in a hole and die right here and now.

Jared grumbles, "Your timing really sucks, Shannon."

"Well, in case you've forgotten, you're in a hospital with a busted leg. Under the circumstances, I really didn't think I'd have anything to interrupt." He puts his hands in the air. "Sorry, guys. I'll go. But just be glad it was me who walked in on you and not Mom." Quickly he leaves, his laughter trailing him out the door.

I bury my face in Jared's silky hair. "Oh, God. He's right. If it had been your mother..."

A rumble of laughter vibrates the bed. "She'd probably be thrilled."

_"Thrilled?"_

"Yeah. She really likes you, Lanie. And if I was ever capable of a  _real_  relationship, I think she'd want it to be with someone like you." Jared turns over onto his back again and I hurriedly sit up and get his leg back on the pillows, my mind in a whirlwind of confusion at his words.

If he was ever capable of a  _real_  relationship? What does that even mean?

I get up off the bed and straighten my clothes and hair. Awkwardness is in every move I make, and I can't even look at Jared now. I've made a complete fool out of myself with him. Again.

"What's wrong?"

 _Nothing. Everything._  "We..." I mumble, and gesture vaguely at his leg. "You can't be moving around like that. I mean, you just had surgery yesterday."

"No. It has nothing to do with my leg. I took it too far, and I'm sorry," he says, and sighs. "I don't think I've made much secret of the fact that I want you, Lanie."

Those words should have me singing with joy, but the tone Jared's using to convey them is something else entirely. I bite my lip, waiting for the  _but_  I clearly hear implied in his confession.

"But I can't ever cross that line with you. Not if I value the place you have in my life more than I value having sex. And I do value that place you have in my life, Lanie. Much more than you can possibly imagine."

 

***

 

That evening, I sit out on Constance's deck, sipping a cup of herbal tea and gazing at the unfamiliar scenery of palm trees and brilliant, sweet-smelling flowers lining the edge of her backyard. Roscoe and Polly flank the Adirondack chair, and occasionally one of them nudges my hand to be petted. I indulge them, my mind drifting this way and that, but mostly I reflect on what happened that afternoon, replaying every moment, every word, every non-verbal cue, but mostly, replaying the way Jared kissed me and pressed me so tightly against his body that I knew his words about wanting me were nothing but the truth.

And then he basically locked me into the friend zone, and managed to make it sound like that's a higher place in his life than sharing his bed would ever be. Given what I little I've read and know about Jared's healthy sexual appetite and the casual way he's indulged in it, he's probably right. But hours later, my head's still spinning from his kiss, from his touch, from the way he drew me in, both physically and emotionally, and made me feel like I'm part of him.

But I'm not. And while he might have dismissed Katia Valkov from his life, there will be others once he's recovered and back to his normal self. Living with him as his constant companion, I'll see it all. It's inevitable. That they're temporary indulgences of his won't make witnessing him with a parade of beautiful women sting any less.

I close my eyes and sigh, nodding to myself as I make a decision. Once Jared's past enough of his recovery to start dating again, he won't need me around anyway. If Todd or the police are still after me by then, Shelby and I will simply flee to Mexico as originally planned. At that point, the money I'll have earned will ensure a great start on building our new lives south of the border. It takes very little money to live comfortably in Mexico, and thanks to Jared's generosity, I'll have more than enough.

I'll keep my distance. I won't let him in again. I'll be professional, but at the same time, I'll be the good friend he wants me to be. It's easy to be Jared's friend, really. At least, the Jared I've come to know. I'm not sure about the other guy that as a high-profile celebrity he also has to be. Hopefully I won't see much of that other guy before it's time to go.

Roscoe nudges my hand again. I open my eyes, sip my tea, and pet him, allowing a semblance of peace to fill me. That peace drowns out the nagging voice inside me, the one full of warning, whispering that none of this will be quite so simple.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Constance strolls out on the deck at precisely the same moment I let out a huge, jaw-cracking yawn without bothering to cover my mouth. With only the dogs for company, why would I? But my mouth quickly snaps shut as Jared's mother comes into my peripheral view. I hadn't even heard the sliding glass door open, which tells me just how deep in thought I've been.

"Tired?" Constance inquires as she settles into the other Adirondack chair, and sets her cup of herbal tea on the glass top table between us. Polly immediately gets up and nudges her mistress's hand for a petting.

"A little," I reply, and then indicate my tea. "This is really good."

Constance smiles as she pets the dog. "Okay, that's enough, Pol." She looks at me. "A friend of mine makes herbal teas. Meaning, she grows them, harvests them, and blends them. This blend is for soothing frayed nerves, and after today, I think we both could use it."

"Yeah," I say and sigh, remembering the chaos we encountered when we left the hospital earlier this evening. "Jared warned me that the paparazzi had been tipped off, but I really wasn't prepared for how aggressive they can be. I'm glad you were there to run that gauntlet and steer them off. I don't think anyone got any pictures of or even noticed me or Shelby."

Constance tosses her truly beautiful mane of silver hair over her shoulder. "The paparazzi are one of the not-so-pleasant aspects of having a celebrity child. I've never quite gotten used to it, not the way Jared and Shannon have." She indicates her house and the backyard in front of us. "I try to live very simply, very quietly. In fact, I never was on the public's radar until Jared took me to the Oscars as his date." Her usually animated face is a little sober. "Eventually the media will notice you, Lanie. They'll notice you with him and they'll ask questions about you to everyone known to be associated with him. They'll ask  _you_  questions, too, if they can get close enough.

"Videos and photos will go online, and people will speculate about who you are. Some people won't be kind. Some will say truly horrible things." She picks up her cup and takes a sip. "My best advice is to not be like the others. My advice is to ignore it all."

I look down at my hands in my lap. "By others, you mean girlfriends, right?"

"Girlfriends, assistants, colleagues, friends. Anyone of the opposite sex that Jared's ever been seen and photographed with is immediately fair game. Some are hurt by the negativity. Some thrive on the attention, believing that adage about any publicity being good publicity. Some go out of their way to get it." There's a pause as Constance drinks her tea. "I know you're not of the latter type, Lanie. I hope you'll have thick enough skin to not be of the former, either, that you'll remember not to take it personally, and not to engage in their nonsense."

"Well, you're right about one thing. I don't want attention. None. And the last thing I'd do is engage in any of that stuff. I mean, the last thing in the world I want is publicity, for my name or Shelby's to go out into the media. For obvious reasons."

"Good girl." Constance smiles again, and then abruptly changes the subject. "Has Jared told you much about his childhood?"

I shrug. "Not a whole lot. He did say he lost his dad at a young age."

Constance nods. "Yes. Tony passed away when Jared was eight. He left when the boys were still babies, and so they never really knew each other. Those were some tough years. We were very poor, and I was very young. We lived with my parents for a time, shuffled from one place to another. I actually was a bit of a nomadic type, a hippie in those days, you know. Lived in a commune, and I took the boys to Haiti for a couple of years where I worked as a medical volunteer."

"Really?" I smile. "I had no idea. I spent time in Guatemala doing the same thing."

"I told you we have some things in common," Constance returns my smile. "It really was a wonderful and life-changing experience. While there I met a man, Carl, who was a doctor volunteering in Port au Prince at the same clinic I was. We eventually married, and Carl adopted the boys."

I look at her in surprise. "Oh. Jared's never mentioned him."

Constance grimaces. "No, I don't suppose he has. The marriage was a disaster. Carl and I were two different people, and having a common interest in helping others wasn't enough to hold us together. Unfortunately, our marriage turned very ugly, and the divorce was very bitter. The boys, especially Jared who was closest to my husband, took it extremely hard. To this day he's resentful toward Carl."

"I'm sorry," I murmur with sympathy. "I think the same will happen with Shelby towards Todd. It probably already has. She doesn't want to discuss him much at all."

"Yes, I imagine it has, the poor thing." She runs a manicured fingernail around the brim of her cup. "You know, I'm not surprised that when Jared left, he went to Oak Creek Canyon. When Carl and I separated, that's where the boys and I ended up for a time. I didn't want to have to go back to my parents in the wake of yet another failed relationship. I wanted time for the boys and I to heal. So, Arizona it was. 

"We lived out of my truck for awhile, and spent a lot of time hiking Oak Creek Canyon before joining another commune, this one an artist's community midway between there and Sedona. It was a beautiful, peaceful place to just breathe, to just be. In the last several years, whenever Jared wants to go somewhere to unwind, regroup, or just try to find himself again, that's the first place he goes. We've always called it The Healing Place."

"The  _Healing_  Place?"

Constance arches an eyebrow. "Ironic, isn't it?"

"Uh, yeah. Very."

"You know, despite everything he went through out there, maybe it  _was_  a step in healing. You see, under the public persona, under the accolades and the success, and even when he seems to be at peace with himself, I can't say Jared's been truly happy in some time. It may or may not come as a surprise to you, Lanie, but there are two very distinct Jareds. The one the world knows, and the one very few people know at all."

I nod."Yeah. Shannon told me he got to see the real Jared when we were in Oak Creek Canyon."

"Yes. He told me the same thing. Shannon said that with you, the real Jared shines. He lets his guard down and can just be himself. I can't tell you how happy I am about that."

I shift in my chair, uncomfortable with where the direction I sense this conversation's going and what Constance is clearly implying. I'm not quite sure how to say it, so I just say it. "But Jared and I are not...we barely even know each other. He's grateful to me and Shelby, and he's asked me to work for him while he recovers. Besides, like you said"—I gesture vaguely— "there are two Jareds and someone like me would fit into  _that_  Jared's world even less."

"Why do you say that?"

"Just being here in L.A. is like taking a trip to the moon, Constance. I wouldn't know  _how_  to fit into that big celebrity kind of lifestyle. I don't know anything about being famous. And it's not only because of this situation with my ex-husband, but the idea of strangers following me around, the paparazzi, the photos and videos, the gossip online and all of that? I don't know how Jared can stand it. I couldn't. Even if I  _could_  stand it, I'd be totally crucified. I mean—" I shake my head and indicate myself—"look at me."

Constance rests her elbows on the table, her tea cup between them, and puts her chin on her folded hands. Her eyes gleam in the fading light. "I  _am_  looking at you, Lanie."

 

***

 

"Oh, shit."

The curse word seems odd slipping out of Constance's mouth, since I haven't heard her swear before. But at the same time, it covers the situation we're approaching. If spread extremely thin, that is.

Caught in bumper-to-bumper traffic on Beverly Boulevard and left with no other choice, Constance slows the Tesla to a crawl as we draw nearer to the visitor's parking ramp. A mob of people toting cameras and microphones are gathered at the entrance of it. More are lining the front of the hospital itself.

"Jared said to expect this." I shrink into my seat a little. "They probably know he's being released today."

"I think we'll have to go with Jimmy's suggestion and go around the corner to the service entrance. You and Shelby better get down. Most of the pap know my car. Damn it!" She picks up her phone from the console and taps something on the screen.

I slide down in my seat even further and in the back seat, Shelby does the same, even as she asks, "What's going on?"

Constance quickly glances in the rear-view mirror. "Remember what your mom and I talked to you about last night, about what to do when the people with the cameras come around you? Well, they're here, honey."

As we slowly pass by the bulk of the media, I'm bracing myself for Constance's car to be mobbed. As she said, the paparazzi know her car.When none of them break from the crowd and rush toward us, she and I glance at one another in surprise. 

Constance stares out my window, and then her eyes narrow just the slightest bit. "Oh. That's why," she mutters and gives a single nod. "Never thought I would say it, but thank you, Katia."

I quickly turn and look, craning my neck a little from my slouched position to peer outside. I give an involuntary gasp as I spy Katia Valkov surrounded by a circle of reporters and cameramen. "Are you freaking kidding me?" I murmur. "What the hell is  _she_ doing here?"

"Talking to the press. Keeping herself visible. Keeping up appearances," Constance answers, a slightly bitter edge in her voice. "Jared's going to be furious when he finds out about this. We'd better warn him when we get in there." She turns and stares straight ahead again at the stopped traffic in front of us, her hands gripping the wheel tightly. "I never could stand that girl. I have no idea why Jared played along with that whole charade after it blew up on him." She shakes her head. "It's not as though  _he_  needed to boost his profile."

I think of the way Jared looked in that unguarded moment after he threw Katia out of his room, the tears in his eyes that he wiped away the second he realized I'd come in. And the way he clung to me afterward. And then what followed. I squeeze my eyes shut. "I think...maybe...maybe he really did care about her."

Constance sighs. "Jared has very good instincts about people as a rule, but he's not always shown the best judgment when it comes to women, especially women in the business." The Tesla gives a little jerk as traffic begins moving again. "Dating and relationships for every reason except love are the rule rather than the exception in the entertainment industry. He's learned to play the game, but even though he hasn't said anything, I suspect deep down he's also been hurt many times by it."

We've left the bulk of the press behind, and Constance tells us we can sit up again. She then takes a right, and pulls into a driveway that leads down to a mammoth garage door. Jimmy's outside, standing beside it as it begins to yawn open. My breathing is easier as we drive into the underground service entrance, finding ourselves surrounded by forklifts and stacks of wooden pallets. Huge steel racks line two walls of the cavernous space, most of them filled with enormous corrugated cartons. In front of us is a three-door loading dock meant to receive goods from semi truck trailers. A smaller door for foot traffic is on one end. But today it'll serve as an escape door for a celebrity patient.

Jimmy catches up to us as we exit the car. "We're all set, Mrs. Leto," he tells her. "Wish it hadn't come to this, but...Mr. Leto insisted on absolute secrecy, especially without Lanie and Shelby being seen and photographed."

I look up at him quickly. "He did this for us?" At Jimmy's nod, I continue, "We didn't have to be here when he's released then. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble."

Jimmy looks down at me and grins. "I told him that. But he wasn't hearing it. He wanted you here. No ifs, ands, or buts."

 

***

 

Jared's sitting up on a chair when we arrive in his room, his leg propped on a footstool. His hair is tied back in a knot. It seems odd to see him fully dressed after days of wearing a hospital gown. Today he's wearing a blue and white tie-dye t-shirt and billowy, yellow pajama pants with pink flowers all over them. His good foot sports a black and white checkered Vans shoe. Truly an odd combo, as if he'd deliberately requested the most mis-matched clothing combination he could think of from his closet. But strangely, on Jared it all seems to work.

"Hey," he looks up and grins as the three of us step into the room.

Constance walks over to him and bends a little to kiss his cheek. "Jared, honey, you really should be a little more adventurous in your fashion statements."

Jared's grin widens. "I'll work on it, Ma." His eyes flit to me and Shelby. "My two favorite girls. Ready to go home?"

Shelby nods. "I love Constance's house, but yeah, I can't wait to see yours, and meet Jimmy's son!"

Jared rumples her hair. "Yeah, Jimmy said Ty's looking forward to meeting you, too. And there might be a surprise or two waiting for you at the house."

"Really? What?"

"Ah, now, there wouldn't be any surprise if I tell you, would there?"

I spy a pair of crutches leaning against the wall next to him. "Have you had a chance to try those out?" I ask, nodding at them.

Jared glances over at them, and back at me. "Yeah, I made it a whole thirty feet this morning."

"It's a start," I shrug. "They'll take some getting used to, I guess."

"Yeah." He sighs. "So, it sounds like some people want to come to the house today for some kind of welcome home party. I told Shannon no, and asked him and Tomo to talk the girls out of it. I'm really not up for any kind of company, much less a houseful."

"Of course you're not," Constance agrees. "Would you rather come back to my house for a day or two?"

Jared shakes his head. "Thanks for the offer, but no. I'd really rather go straight home. I want Lanie and Shelby to get settled in but without a crowd of random people hanging around. Shannon and Tomo will handle it with the staff. I'll authorize a couple weeks' paid vacation for them or something." His eyes meet mine. "By the way, the girls I'm talking about are my two chief personal assistants, Carrie Walsh and Danica Simmons. You'll be working with them on a daily."

I blink. If Jared's already got two personal assistants, what does he need  _me_  as a personal assistant for? 

When I ask him this, he gives me a little smile and a shrug. "I have a lot of different things going on, and even with assistants of their own, the two of them are stretched super-thin as it is between the band, my film career on the acting side, Sisyphus Corporation, and then there are the multiple tech investment firms I've got, Paradox, Delmos Investments, Adventures in Wonderland, Vyrt, and now working on forming our indie record company, and..." he trails off and studies me for a moment. "I've lost you, haven't I."

"Huh? No!" I exclaim. "I just didn't realize you're involved in so many things."

"That's my brother. Mr. Do it All, Be it All," Shannon says behind me. He steps into the room and grins. "And has always hated handing off vital responsibility for anything to anyone else. At least until now. So. Ready to go, Jay?"

"Past ready," Jared answers, shifting in his chair with a grimace. "Just waiting for my discharge papers. I cannot wait to get out of here."

"The people with the cameras are outside," Shelby informs him, sitting on his bed. "Papa...paparazzi."

"Yeah, I know they are. That's why we're going to sneak out of here," Jared tells her.

"That Natasha lady's out there too. She's talking to them."

I cringe, and Jared turns a quizzical eye to Shelby. "Natasha lady? Who's that?"

Shelby rolls her eyes and with a remarkably good imitation of Katia's Russian accent, one hand pressed to her chest, the other splayed out in over-the-top dramatic flair, she wails, "Vat you  _meaaaan,_  Jal-led von't  _szeeeeee_  me?!"

Shannon lets out a guffaw of laughter. Jared's eyes widen and he looks from Shelby to me to his mother to his brother. "Is she talking about Katia?" he utters. Even under his beard his jaw clenches visibly as he speaks her name.

I nod, and Constance says, "She's holding court with the press right outside the hospital's main entrance."

"Fucking wonderful," Jared growls. "I'm morbidly curious about what she's telling them."

"Don't be any kind of curious," Shannon warns him. "Just leave it alone, man."

"I plan to, Shannon. Don't worry," Jared replies, his voice tight and clipped. "I just said I'm curious. We'll find out soon enough, anyway."

A young nurse steps into Jared's room then, clutching a handful of papers. He takes them from her with a mumbled thanks. When he's done scanning them and signing his name, he thrusts them back at her without even looking at her. When she's gone, he reaches out for his crutches but doesn't quite make it. A hiss of exasperation escapes his lips.

"I've got them," I say and quickly grab them. Then Shannon and I stand on either side of Jared to assist him out of the chair. Then I position the crutches so he can lean on them and they can support and balance him. "Okay?" I murmur as he grasps onto them and takes a few tentative lurching steps toward the door.

"Yeah. I've got it," he replies grimly.

"Wouldn't you rather ride out in a wheelchair?" Shannon ventures. "It's a long way to go on crutches."

"No." Jared's voice is again tight and clipped. "I'll go out under my own power."

Shannon and I exchange a glance and I give him a barely perceptible nod. Jared will find out soon enough that he has to build up to getting around on crutches for any length of time or distance, especially after being off his feet for the better part of a week. For now, and in the dark mood he seems to be falling into, I know it's better not to push him.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Jared Leto's house, if one could even properly call this white industrial-looking sprawling compound a house, is not fifty thousand square feet in size. It's easily double that. What little yard I can see is xeriscape, is all native vegetation. There's none of the meticulously landscaped green space that I'd spotted in front of the mansions we'd passed on the way here.

"The livable and usable parts of the place now are about fifty thousand square feet," Jared clarifies as I stare at the sprawling structure, open-mouthed and trying to take it all in. "There are lower levels and sub-levels, vaults, laboratories, bomb shelters, and I swear this one room on sub-level two looks like it was a dungeon at one time—hey. You okay?"

I try to speak but only a woosh of air emits forth as I point at the structure protruding from the back of the massive building. Finally I find my voice. "That. That's an actual  _control_  tower. Isn't it?"

Jared laughs. "Yeah, it is. And that is one of Shelby's surprises. I'm pretty sure both of her surprises are in there, in fact."

"Really? In  _there?"_  Shelby stares at him, and by her expression I can see she's as overwhelmed as I am at our first glimpse of where we'll call home for the foreseeable future.

"I'm pretty sure they are," Jared repeats with a smile. "Shannon, you did say it's ready. Right?"

"That's what Magda said," Shannon affirms. "If so, Flora's team did a hell of a job in the short time they had to work in." He drops Shelby a wink.

Constance wraps an arm around my shoulders as I stand by her car, clutching my battered pack and feeling a little faint. "I did tell you that you could get lost in this place. I meant that literally. When I came out to see it, this was about a year before Jared bought it, I got turned around down on one of the lower levels. I had to call the realtor and have him navigate me out of there."

"And then you talked me into buying it," Jared grins.

"Who...who's Magda?" I manage. "And Flora?"

"Magda's my estate manager," Jared explains. "Magda Williams. You'll meet him. He's around here somewhere. That's his car over there." Jared sweeps an arm across the driveway, which isn't a driveway at all but a parking lot of black, smooth asphalt that could easily hold a couple dozen vehicles, and he points at the black Escalade parked at the far end. "Flora DuSchene is an interior and set designer, and Magda's girlfriend." His eyes scan the parking lot again. "Looks like everyone else has cleared out like I asked them to. Good."

"Everyone else?"

Jared looks at me. "I have a pretty big team that until now have worked from offices here at the house. But I leased space on Wilshire and had them move the offices there instead, at least on a temporary basis. I know I said you'd work with my assistant team on a daily, but on second thought, I think we all would do well with less of that chaos for the time being." He adjusts his crutches and lurches his way toward a double-doored entrance. Shannon goes ahead of him and stops at a keypad by the door, where he presses a few buttons. I notice a security camera affixed to the side of the house beaming down at him. In fact, I've noticed cameras everywhere since we pulled up at the big white gate in front of the property.

As Constance, Shelby, and I follow, flanking Jared on either side, I wonder how he's managed to arrange this move of his offices while laid up in the hospital. But then I remember who he is. Jared Leto. A man who probably has dozens of people at his fingertips that he can put in instantaneous motion with a single phone call. I also wonder if he made those changes to his business operations for our benefit, his own, or both.

If I'm mind-boggled by the sheer size of Jared's residence, I'm even more shocked by the interior, consisting of endless rooms and hallways, all which have an industrial look and feel. The main living areas of his home contain furniture that's strictly functional, with limited embellishments or adornments. Plain white walls, though colorful modern art breaks up the flow in nearly every room. Beautiful big Persian rugs, a few black lacquer tables, huge colorful pillows and beanbag chairs abound.

"We're really gonna live here," Shelby marvels as she takes in everything with wide, shining eyes. "This is so awesome! It's so huge!"

I'm no less astounded by the size of the place, but I'm more shocked by the minimalism, by the scuffed paint, the scratched and dingy flooring, which is clearly original from when the place was built. Other than the big Persian carpets which I suspect are silk, there's not a hint of over-the-top, self-indulgent luxury anywhere. But there's a peaceful kind of aura throughout the cavernous spaces, a beauty in its simplicity. Like its owner, Jared's home is full of contradictions and broken stereotypes.

"Jared painted these," Shannon confides as he shows us around a few of the main living areas, while Constance goes to the main kitchen to fix us all something to eat. "Almost all of them."

"Really?" Shelby looks wide-eyed at a landscape piece that hangs over a long, bright red sofa in yet another living room area illuminated by indirect ceiling lights. The sofa curves, hugging the corner of the room and each section is easily eight feet wide. So is the painting hanging above one side of it, and is almost as tall as it is wide. "It's so beautiful. Isn't it, Mom?"

I had no idea Jared's talents stretch to visual art, or that he is an imaginative and talented artist in his own right. I study the mammoth painting, recognizing the subject of it immediately. "That's El Capitan. In Yosemite." I look at Shannon. "Has he ever climbed it?"

Shannon nods. "Parts of it, like the East Buttress. That's fifteen hundred feet. He did that climb with a couple other guys. The Nose, no, he hasn't. But he wants to. In fact, that crazy little bastard said he wants to free-climb it. Solo. With no protective gear."

I gasp, aware that The Nose is three thousand feet of sheer granite that, even when utilizing every bit of protective gear, is over a half-mile of taking one's life in their hands. "But that's never been done. Has it?"

Shannon nods. "One guy did it this past June, in fact. Alex Honnold. He's one of the guys Jared climbed The Buttress with."

Shelby moves off to study the rest of the artwork hanging in the huge living room. I watch her for a moment, and then I shake my head. "Shannon, he has to realize that's completely impossible. When he fell in Oak Creek Canyon, it was because his knee gave out. Even when he heals, he won't be able to handle anything but the lightest climbs, and that's only if he's very lucky."

Shannon stares down at me, his expression somber as his honey-colored eyes pierce mine. "Don't tell him that, Lanie. Whatever you do, do not tell him he can't do it. It'll only make him more determined to prove you wrong."

"Mom, can I go see the control tower now?" Shelby asks.

"Do you know your way back to the kitchen?" Shannon says. "My mom can call Magda on the intercom from wherever he is and he'll show it to you." He grins. "You're gonna love it, kid."

"Really?" Shelby's eyes shine. "I gotta go see it!" She races through the huge archway and out of the room.

I turn my attention back to Jared's painting. "Mmm," I murmur, nodding. "Yeah, I can see that about Jared. Tell him he can't do something, he'll make a point to do it. Or, try to."

"Yeah. He wears determination like another layer of skin, but underneath it there's a lot you don't know about my brother." Shannon doesn't look at me as he says this; like me, he studies the painting instead for a moment and then he sighs. "Look, Lanie. I'm glad Shelby left the room because I...I wanted to talk to you about...about what I walked in on the other day. You and Jared, I mean."

Heat rushes to my face instantly and my insides quiver. "Oh, God," I mumble. "Yeah. That won't happen again."

That pulls Shannon's eyes back to me, and I think I read surprise, and—is that relief?—in their depths. "I'm just saying he's a complicated guy when it comes to women. He goes through them fast, usually juggling more than one at a time, but typically they know the score going into it. I thought Katia might end up to be someone special and maybe Jared himself thought it too at one point, but obviously that wasn't the case, either. Truth is, Jared hasn't had a serious exclusive relationship in years. Cameron was the last woman he kept around for any length of time."

He says this like I'm supposed to know who he's talking about. I do, but of course I don't let on that I do. "Cameron?"

"Cameron Diaz. You've heard of her, right?"

"I...I think so." I shrug. "Blonde actress. She was in a few movies I've seen. She's pretty famous."

 _"Was,_ yeah.She's not really doing much acting anymore. She married the lead singer of Good Charlotte a couple of years ago. They actually don't live too far from here." He rubs the scruff on his cheek and sighs again. "Anyway, like I said, Jared's complicated when it comes to dating and all of that. He compartmentalizes it from his day-to-day life. With someone as driven as he is, with as many things as he's involved in, I think he has to keep it in a place where it can't distract him from his work, unless dating _is_  part of his work. Hollywood is rife with fake relationships arranged for nothing more than publicity and profile boosting." He crosses his arms and regards me levelly. "Jared's a beautiful person, inside and out, and I've seen how easily women fall in love with him. Can't blame them, I mean, look at the guy, right? On top of having those looks he also has a brilliant mind, he's hugely successful and the most talented person I've ever known. He's deep, and he's sensitive. But he's become jaded and cynical, too. He's kind of had to, in order to survive in Hollywood."

"You don't need to worry, Shannon," I assure him. "Believe me, I know where we stand. The last thing you have to worry about is me falling in love with your brother."

Shannon gives me a crooked grin. "Good. Yeah. Especially if you're living with him. Before long I think you'll be ready to kill him."

 

***

 

I stare around the control tower, hardly able to believe what I'm seeing. It's impossible that this was done in such a limited amount of time, but it was. The control tower has become a four-story tween paradise, with an elevator, a study room complete with a desk upon which sits a computer, a music room with its own karaoke machine on a stage and a dance floor, another floor with a seventy-inch LED television, gaming consoles and hot pink lounge chairs and tables, a functioning mini-kitchen to fix snacks complete with a sink, dishwasher, and a small fridge. On the very top floor, encased in windows on all four sides, is her bedroom and en-suite bathroom. The decor is a piece of forest brought indoors, with silk-leaved pine and oak trees, moon and star decals on the ceiling that glow in the dark, a working fireplace, thick dark green carpet under our feet, and the bed itself is a dream. It's a double bed with a comforter set in dark forest-green, Shelby's favorite color.

"Ty Pennington has nothing on my Flora," Magda Williams, a pleasant-looking thin man of about forty, says as Shelby stares stunned, speechless and overwhelmed at everything while tears stream down her face. He beams. "Jared told her what he wanted done, and she and her team did it." He waves his hand in a careless, fluttering gesture. "Piece of cake."

Piece of cake. Yeah. More like a big piece of money. Renovating this tower into a multi-floored child's dream space had to have cost a fortune I can't begin fathom. Or maybe I don't want to. My God, we'd have been content and more than grateful sharing a small bedroom consisting of a mattress on the floor with a couple of pillows and blankets. That's luxury by our standards.

A tiny sound startles me, and Shelby gasps as Shannon appears in her new bedroom with something moving in his arms. "These little fellas almost got away from me," he says with a chuckle. "Here you go, Shelby." He bends down and places two kittens, one gray and one solid black, in her arms.

"Oh, my God!" Shelby squeals, and she begins to cry harder. "They're  _mine?"_

"Uh-huh. They just got dropped off." He looks at me. "They're rescues from an organization that Jared sponsors. There are supplies downstairs. You know, kitten food, litter boxes, litter, all that stuff. One of the housekeepers can set all that up."

I touch one of the kittens' heads and it begins to purr loudly. I continue to pet it, murmuring, "Oh my God, this is all so much, Shannon." I shake my head. "It's all _too_  much."

Shannon slings an arm over my shoulder. "No, it's not. You and Shelby saved his life, Lanie, and trust me when I say that Jared's enjoying every minute of this. Except I know he wishes he was able to get around enough to show this to her himself. Now come see your bedroom."

"Can I stay here?" Shelby says, climbing on the bed with the two kittens still in her arms.

I smile, knowing I won't be able to pry her out of the tower for at least awhile. "Sure, but only for a little while. You need to go tell Jared what you think of all of this."

"Enjoy your rooms, Shelby," Magda tells her as he follows us to the elevator.

 _Rooms._  Plural. I feel like Shelby and I have stepped into The Twilight Zone.

My own room is not the grand outfitted tower that Shelby's been given, but it's beautiful regardless. "Flora wasn't sure of the color scheme you'd prefer," Magda says as I step into the room. "Jared said to use her best judgment. So she went with neutral for now. You can have it changed if you like."

"No, it's...it's fine," I manage. Two opposite walls are a soft dove gray, the others white, and while I can tell efforts have been made to disguise the fresh paint odor, I can detect it. It smells fresh and clean and far more spacious and beautiful than anything I've ever called a bedroom before.

The bed is king-sized, with a peach and brown coverlet and huge fluffy pillows of tangerine and cocoa-brown. I move to the huge double-doors that lead to a slate patio deck, where I find a glass top table and a pair of chairs. Across the patio is a two-seated swing, the frame made of rustic logs. Further across the patio, I catch my breath as I spy a small waterfall built into the rocky, native hillside that cascades to a stream, over which is a pale blue footbridge.

"This is incredible," I tell Magda, still gazing outside. "It's so beautiful. But again, it's too much." My mind is whirling with conflicting thoughts. I'm overwhelmed, but I'm a little freaked out, too. While I've not seen Jared's own bedroom, the rest of the house has had barely any work done to it. Yet for Shelby and I, he's had rooms turned into showcases worthy of a magazine spread and countless entries on Pinterest. Why would he go to all of that trouble and expense?

"Lanie."

I whirl around and see Jared standing there with Magda in the doorway. His blue eyes are riveted on me, laser-like, and I wonder if I've spoken any of those thoughts out loud.  He then confirms that I did, saying,"You and Shelby spent hours building that hut for me. You built that bed for me and gave me your sleeping bag while you went without. You went nights without sleep saving my life. So don't ask again why I did this." He inclines his head toward the front of the house. "Mom's fixed us all lunch. Think we can pry Shelby out of the tower long enough to eat?"

I smile a little at that. "Probably just long enough."

Magda excuses himself and heads off into another part of the house. As Jared and I walk toward the kitchen where an interesting combination of aromas tantalizes my nose, he says, "Ty'll be home from school in a couple of hours. He's really excited to meet Shelby."

"So Jimmy and Ty live here, too?" I inquire.

"Yeah. There's a wing on the southeast quadrant that's been converted into a separate house. Jimmy and Ty live there."

"I see. Is there a Mrs. Jimmy?"

Jared shakes his head. "There was. Her name was Brenda. She ran out on Jimmy and Ty when Ty was just a baby. Hooked up with some sleazeball WWE promoter." He glances at me. "Why? Interested?"

"What? No!" I exclaim. Why would he even ask something like that? I barely know the man.Jimmy's a nice guy from what I do know of him, and certainly attractive— tall, with an incredible build wrapped in beautiful, smooth chocolate-brown skin— but romantic interest in him hasn't even crossed my mind. 

Jared shrugs as best as he can while maneuvering on his crutches around a corner. "Okay. Just asking." He nods at a closed door and lurches to a stop in front of it. "This is my bedroom. Wanna see it?" Without waiting for a response, he turns the doorknob, grins at me and says, "It's super-fancy, just to warn you." He pushes the door open.

I look inside and my eyes widen. Jared's bedroom is half the size of mine, and consists of a battered, plain tan loveseat and coffee table, both of which look like they came from Goodwill about thirty years ago. There are two small windows bare of curtains or blinds, and a mattress thrown on the floor with white sheets and a Navajo blanket spread over them. A laptop computer lays beside it, charging cord plugged into an outlet that's missing its faceplate. On the opposite wall from his bed is a medium-sized flat-panel television on a simple wooden stand. Next to that is a bookcase filled with hardcover titles I'm dying to inspect. Two orange beanbag chairs make up the rest of the furnishings in the room.

A portable closet is shoved against one corner of the small room. One of the doors is partially open and I can see clothes tightly jammed in there. A door leading to a small bathroom is next to it.

"Welcome to Casa de Leto. How do you like it?" Jared grins.

"It's...not quite what I expected, and yet, it kind of is."

"Yeah." He nods at the mattress on the floor. "Obviously, I have to do something about the bed. I forgot about how I'm going to manage getting on and off that."

"Yeah, because you were too busy doing  _Extreme Home Makeover_  for Shelby and me," I reply. "Jared, I know what you said, but it's still too much. I mean, I don't even know how long we're staying. Shelby and I are only going to be here until you're mostly healed, and that should be a matter of several weeks at most, right? Then once Todd's been dealt with, we're going home. So I don't know why you did all that renovation since we're only going to be here temporarily."

A sharp, pained look crosses his face, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. So quickly I might be imagining it. A remote, slightly chilly expression fills his eyes instead. "I don't know, I suppose I'd hoped...I'd hoped you'd find a reason to stay in L.A. after that." He looks away. "Of course, if you want to go back to Minnesota, or on to Mexico for that matter, I guess that's your choice, isn't it?"

Knowing it's a rhetorical question, I say nothing to this. Jared sighs, and with a toss of his head, hops in a half circle and maneuvers his way out of his room. "Well. Like I said, lunch is ready, and afterward Shannon can show you around the grounds. There's not that much to see, really, other than the pool." His tone is cool, formal, lacking its usual smooth warmth as he speaks. "It's pretty nice back there, but the pool and the hedges and stuff have been neglected a bit lately." He adjusts the crutches and forges on down the hall, moving much faster this time. I trudge slowly behind him, watching his retreating form as a tiny voice inside me, one that I immediately try to silence, wonders if Shannon's words of warning have come just a little too late.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

From the moment Jared made his escape from me down the hall, his attitude has been aloof and very unlike him. During lunch he barely looks at me, engaging with Shelby instead as she gushes on and on about her tower and the kittens. His face is animated and smiling as they discuss what to name the kittens, and how much she loves everything about the tower. And the more they talk, the more like shit I feel about what I said to him. I have to face it...once again I've opened my mouth and behaved like an idiot.

While we eat veggie burgers with a side of tabouleh salad—first time for me eating either one and I find them odd but surprisingly delicious—Constance's eyes flit between Jared and me, so I know she's picked up on the distance and tension between us.

So does Shannon when he appears for a bite to eat. "I was in the studio," he explains when, desperate for something to say, I ask where he's been.

"I haven't seen the studio yet. Where is it?" I ask.

"There's a big soundstage on the north end," Jared replies shortly, not looking at me, but at his plate, before meeting Shannon's eyes across the table. "I'd like to spend the rest of the day in there, too. I had some songs I was working on before I left for Arizona, and I think I've finally figured out the bridge for  _Interference._  I'd like to play around with it."

Jared and Shannon launch into a music discussion from that point. I look away and sigh inwardly before rising from the table to carry my plate to the sink. I've fucked up. I've fucked up bigtime. I just don't know how to make it right without carrying the burden of what could possibly be another lie.

 

***

 

That night, no one's in the house except Jared, Shelby, and me, Shannon and Constance having left a few hours ago. Shelby's in bed with the two kittens curled up with her, and I'm up in her room with her as she tells me all about meeting Jimmy's son Tyrell. The two of them hung out for a few hours in the tower, played with the kittens, ate snacks, and played video games on Shelby's new Playstation. With his big dark eyes, ready grin, and impeccable manners, he is his father in miniature. 

"He's really nice," Shelby says now. "He's going to show me around school and introduce me to his friends. He told me all about his teacher, Mrs. Bryce. Maybe I'll have her, too."

I pinch the bridge of my nose between my finger and thumb. School? In the Hollywood Hills? My God, the students that go to Ty's school are comprised in good part of celebrity and other wealthy people's children. In contrast, Shelby has exactly two pairs of jeans, neither of which are in good condition, and three t-shirts. One pair of hiking boots, and a few changes of underwear. My daughter will be laughed out of the place. Or worse, bullied mercilessly.

But she can't  _not_  go to school. She's already missed several weeks of her fifth grade year, and to keep her out for the duration of our stay at Jared's is out of the question. Not to mention illegal, and the last thing I need is another black mark on myself. I have a few hundred dollars; I'll find a thrift store. Surely there must be one somewhere in the area, and given the neighborhood, their cast-offs are probably top-end designer labels.

As I say goodnight I turn off Shelby's bedside lamp using the wall switch, and the moon and hundreds of stars on the ceiling instantly glow with ethereal light. "Oh, wow," she whispers. "Mom, you gotta come here and see this. Lay on the bed with me."

I come back and lay beside her, and I instantly realize what's got Shelby so enchanted. Looking up through the branches of the silk-leaved trees at the stars reminds me of the many nights spent in the wild with her, when we'd lay on our backs in a clearing and stargaze. I look up at the heavenly spectacle over our heads and my throat tightens, knowing without a doubt that Jared had this done for Shelby to bring a bit of her home to L.A.

"Mom?" Shelby snuggles against me.

"Yeah, kiddo?" I murmur, wrapping my arms around her.

"Why does Dad hate black people so much?"

I rub the space between my eyebrows and sigh. "Your dad is one of those people who doesn't like anyone who looks different, believes different, and thinks different from him. He doesn't agree that differences are what make people interesting and awesome."

"He'd be really mad if he knew I made a black friend. But I don't care. Ty's really nice. So is his dad."

I nod in the darkness. "They are."

"I wanna stay here forever," Shelby whispers. "I don't want to go to Mexico. I don't wanna go back to Minnesota, either. I love Jared and his brother and his mom. I have a new best friend, too. Can't we please just stay here?"

 

***

 

After Shelby's asleep, I leave the tower and make my way toward my room for a shower and sleep. My bathroom is a dream; big, with a huge walk-in shower stall tiled in real ceramic tiles of peach and blue, fluffy towels neatly folded on a rack next to it, and an enormous marble vanity. I marvel all over again at the work Flora DuSchene and her team put into these rooms, and once more feel a surge of self-loathing for the way I came off so rude, dismissive, and ungrateful to Jared for all he has done for us.

That's enough to change my mind about bed. After showering, I pull on my one clean t-shirt, which I washed at Constance's, and a pair of soft blue pajama pants she's lent me.

As I get dressed I look at myself in the full-length mirror on the wall and sigh. I've lost weight I can ill afford since leaving Minnesota. I'm not gaunt by any means; I have too much of an athletic build to be a stick-figure like...well, like Katia...but I can tell I'm not in the shape I was in even three weeks ago. I definitely need to start working out again and getting more protein.  _Good luck with that in a strictly vegan household,_  I think sourly.

Then I realize I'm being a bit unfair. First, Jared never said Shelby and I have to be vegans too. Second, there's more than one kitchen in this place. There are several, in fact. If he doesn't want meat cooked in the main kitchen, I'll cook it in another. And third, Jared's sure not lacking in protein. Not with that perfectly sculpted masterpiece of a body. 

I know I'm stalling. I also know my mind's heading down a path it shouldn't. I leave the bathroom and set off in search of Jared. It's not that late, before midnight, so I'm quite sure he's up. Besides, there's no way he'd be able to maneuver himself down to the floor on that mattress, not without hurting himself, anyway. But I also imagine he's stubborn enough to try. That thought puts speed in my steps.

I knock on his bedroom door, and when there's no answer, I slowly open it. The light is on, but the room is empty.

Shutting off the light, I continue toward the front of the house. He may still be in the studio where he holed up with Shannon since after lunch, not even coming out for a delightful vegan stir-fry dinner which Constance also prepared. Shannon ended up bringing a plate for Jared back to the studio, saying his brother is deep into work and doesn't wish to break concentration. Constance accepts that excuse as nothing out of the ordinary, and perhaps it isn't. I don't know Jared well enough to say. I helped clean up the kitchen and then spent the rest of the evening with Shelby.

From the direction of the living room that houses the El Capitan painting, I hear something. A clink, like glass against glass. I turn and head for the archway and the dim glow casting shadows into the hall outside it.

Jared's half-sitting, half-laying on the red couch, broken leg propped on a black lacquer table pulled up against it. He has a glass in his hand and he's leaning his head against the back of the couch. A pad of paper rests against his other leg, and a pencil in his other hand. Across the room the blinds have been drawn back, and he's staring out into the night.

For a moment I lean against the archway, just looking at him. He's in profile to me, but even with that limited view I can tell he's deep inside himself, lost in thought. I should leave him alone, but something compels me to stay, and also compels me to announce my presence and break whatever deep place he's gone to.

"Hey." I speak in barely above a whisper, but my voice seems inordinately loud as it carries into the room, and for a split second I regret intruding into the silent peace in which he's enveloped himself. I'm aware it's a rare commodity for him.

Jared looks my way. "Hi," he responds. His tone is still that cool, disengaged one from earlier. "Still up? Or can't sleep?"

"Still up." I pad into the room. "I...I wanted to talk to you." I approach the sofa, and Jared watches me unblinkingly as I sit carefully on the edge of the other section. "What I said earlier. It came out wrong. I didn't mean it the way it sounded at all. I was rude, and—"

"Lanie." Jared leans forward and sets his water glass on the table next to his leg. "Don't ever apologize for stating how you feel."

I clench my hands together tightly. "That's just it. That's  _not_  how I feel. Not really."

"Okay," he says slowly. "Then how  _do_  you feel?"

I shrug and my hands continue wringing themselves. "Out of my depth. Insecure and a little scared and a lot intimidated. Not knowing how or if I can adapt long-term to a life so different than anything I've known before." I look down unseeingly at a spot between my bare feet, but I can still feel his gaze on me. "I'm used to doing for myself and my daughter."

"Then that's all you had to say." Jared's hand comes into my view and covers my own. I watch his thumb stroke the back of my hand. "I guess I was a little presumptuous, having those major renovations done, but it seemed like the right thing to do, and I wanted to do it. You've seen this place...it's not very warm or home-like. And Flora was so excited to do it; being a Minnesota girl herself, she knew just how to design Shelby's bedroom with that whole northwoods theme."

I look up in surprise. "Flora's from Minnesota?"

"Yeah. Didn't Magda tell you that?"

I shake my head. "What part of Minnesota?" I ask, thinking probably the Twin Cities. In all my travels, every native Minnesotan I've met is from the metro area.

"I can't remember. Somewhere way up north. I can't remember the name of the town but it's closer to Canada than to Minneapolis." He looks thoughtful. "I think it starts with  _Soo_ -something?"

My mouth drops open and my eyes widen. "Soudan? Is it  _Soudan?_  There's a family of DuSchene's there who own and operate a hunting and fishing retreat like ours. That's not far at all from our place!"

Jared frowns thoughtfully. "Soudan sounds right. These DuSchenes that you know—are they Native American?"

"Yes!" I say excitedly. "French Canadian and Ojibwe!"

Jared gives me the first smile I've seen from him since shortly after getting him home from the hospital. "That must be her family, then. Small world, indeed."

"Wow, I guess," I marvel. "I can't wait to meet her."

"She actually is in Minnesota now, she left yesterday, and she'll be back in about a week, I think," Jared informs me. "I know she wants to meet you and Shelby, too, and see what you think of her work."

"What I think of her work?" I shake my head. "I have no words to really describe what she's done. It's amazing. She's truly gifted."

"Yeah, she is. I'm having her head the renovations on the rest of the house whenever I get around to actually doing them." He looks around the big living room. "It won't be much. I mean, I don't want some fancy Hollywood showplace. That's not my style. I like comfortable, but I'm about minimalism." He turns to me again. "I always have been, really, but even more after experiencing what someone as resourceful as you can do with just your bare hands and that wealth of knowledge." He gently taps the side of my head. "To be perfectly honest, Lanie, you might feel like you're out of your depth and out of place in Tinseltown, but I believe you and I are a lot more alike than you realize."

I'm not entirely sure how that's possible, but I nod anyway. "So..."I gesture at the sofa. "Are you going to try to sleep here tonight instead of on your bed?"

"Yeah, I thought it'd be easier, but I don't know. I tried to lay down but I can't get comfortable." He grimaces. "My leg hurts like a motherfucker tonight, and it's not only that. My back's flaring up now, and so is my hip."

"What's wrong with your back and hip?" I ask as, wincing, he shifts around a little.

"Arthritis in my hip," he replies and scoffs. "Can you believe that shit? And I have had back pain for a while now. From touring, mostly." He shifts and grimaces again. "Muscle spasms, shooting pain throughout the lower lumbar."

"Having a heavy cast on your leg is probably aggravating both," I nod. "Anything I can do? Anything I can help with?"

Jared studies me as a slow smile crosses his face. "Yeah. I think maybe there is, if you're up to it."

 

***

 

"Turn over on your side as much as you can," I instruct, pillows in hand.

"It's not gonna be comfortable," Jared grumbles, but he does what I ask, turning over in the big king sized bed. Towels are spread out under him to protect the bottom sheet. The top sheet falls to just below his hips so that the waistband of his silky blue boxers is visible. I lift his casted leg and place the pillows between it and his lower leg. "How's that feel?"

"Better." He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Your bed is nice, Lanie."

Kneeling behind Jared, gazing at his tattooed bare back and the way his beautiful dark hair brushes his shoulders, remembering the last time we were in a bed together, all I can think is,  _Oh, shit...this isn't a good idea. Not at all._

But Jared's in pain, and I'm pretty good at therapeutic massage, having learned techniques that came in handy when Todd used to request one for a strained muscle. And very often, those massage sessions that started with pain relief and/or relaxation turned to something else.

I squint my eyes closed, willing thoughts of Todd away. It's Jared I'm giving the massage to, and Jared's made himself clear. He is determined to never cross that line. This is a therapeutic act and nothing more.

Still...my fingers ache to touch him, my hands to slide over that smooth skin, feel the muscles ripple under my fingers.

And so I begin. Using heated massage oil I located where he told me it would be, in his lower level gym—which has a massage table that, with his cast, is useless to Jared right now—I pour some of the fragrant, warm liquid in my hands and slowly, gently, begin to massage his right shoulder, working my way over his deltoid, across to as much of his spine as I can, and then, slowly, I work my way further down.

When I reach his lower lumbar, Jared lets out a quiet sound that's half-moan, half-sigh, and says softly, "Oh God, you're good, Lanie. So damn good."

I gulp and will my hands not to tremble, but it takes some effort. My imagination drifts to another activity in which Jared might moan and sigh with similar praise and I'm unable to control the way my heart picks up its pace, nor the way his oil-slickened skin under my hands seems to radiate enough heat to set my entire body on fire.

My hands should be cramping by now. I have a vague sense that they are, but I keep going anyway. At the waistband of his shorts, I pause, re-oil my hands, and then slip one under the elastic to begin working on his sore hip. As I do, Jared shivers, sucks in his breath and I pause. "Are you okay?" I murmur.

A quiet laugh. "Depends on what you mean by that. On the one hand, I feel fantastic. On the other...well..." he shifts a little and laughs. "I'm getting a little...ah...snug."

It takes me a second to comprehend what he means by that. When I do, it's as if a furnace has been lit in the room. Doing my best to maintain my composure, I ask lightly, "Do you want me to stop?"

"Not at all. Please, don't stop. Not unless you want to."

Okay, then. But isn't this a form of line-crossing? I have no idea and I'm not about to ask and possibly ruin the moment. I focus one hand on Jared's hip, the other on his lower back just above his tailbone, and once more he lets out that soft moan that sends my thoughts and emotions into a complete frenzy that I have to somehow find a way to control.

The moans, sighs, and "So good"s continue. Then, twenty minutes later, I realize that Jared's no longer moving, no longer moaning or sighing or saying anything at all. I lean over and quickly realize why. His eyes are closed, his lips parted just slightly—he's fallen asleep.

Gently I blot any excess oil from his skin with a towel, pull the sheet and coverlet up over him, and then I sit there for a few minutes, massaging my cramping hands and wondering what I should do. Let him sleep, certainly. But—what about me? Do I take his previously claimed spot on the sofa? Or should I sleep with him here in my bed?

Indecision gnaws at me, but fatigue and common sense finally win over. I gently work the towels out from under him before rolling him on his back, positioning the pillows under his leg to support it. Then I go to my bathroom, brush my teeth, and return to my bed.

I slide in between the cool sheets and switch off my bedside lamp. I'm so far on the other side of the king-sized bed that even if I extended my arm its full length, I wouldn't be able to touch Jared.

But I am still all too aware of his presence over there. I can hear his steady, even breathing, and the faintest rustles as he moves slightly. I lay awake staring up into the blackness. I'm glad, so glad that Jared and I have bridged the chasm I caused with my thoughtless, callous words, but I am equally apprehensive about what tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and all the other tomorrows to come will bring.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

A low agonized moan awakens me sometime during the pre-dawn hours of the morning. I open my eyes to blackness. It takes a moment to remember where I am, and another moan to remind me that I'm not alone in the bed.

"Jared?" I whisper, turning toward him. "Are you okay?"

Silence. Maybe he's dreaming. If that's the case, there's no point in disturbing him. I turn over, facing away from him and close my eyes, but moments later he moans again, louder this time, and something in the sound of it—tormented and somehow lost—pulls me away from my edge of the bed and over to his.

"Jared," I whisper again, and this time he responds, reaching for me and pulling me tightly against his trembling body. Automatically I wrap my arms around him, trying to still his shaking. "Is it your leg? Are you in pain?"

"No," he mumbles groggily. "It was just a nightmare. Why's it so damn dark in here?"

"Because it's like four in the morning," I answer. "What was the nightmare about?"

"I dunno...some kind of apocalyptic thing. A crowd of people screaming and running everywhere, gunshots, chaos, and then I'm screaming, too, and Shannon and Tomo are there holding onto me, holding me back, and I keep screaming, something like 'why couldn't it have been me?'" He lets out a shuddering breath. "Anyway. The dark...I need some light right now. Please, Lanie."

I pull away from him and get up. I go to the bathroom and turn on the light in the shower stall and return to the bedroom. Jared's laying there with his hands behind his head, watching me. Shining glints of tears streak his face and he looks pale and tense. That must have been some nightmare. The residual effects are still apparent.

"Is that better?" I gesture at the bathroom doorway.

Jared nods. "Thank you."

I offer a small smile and get back into bed, resuming my prior position at the far edge. I fluff my pillow and turn away from him, hoping I can get back to sleep without too much trouble.

"What are you doing way over there?"

His voice caresses my back. It's much wider awake-sounding, and though his voice is smooth and warm, a shiver ripples through me. "Trying to go back to sleep."

A sigh. "I'd prefer it if you tried over here."

I turn to study him. The dim glow from the bathroom doorway illuminates his face, casting shadows and highlighting streaks of burnished red in his dark hair. His eyes are heavy lidded but I can both see and feel the burn of their steady glow even in the murky dimness of the room. "Why?" I murmur.

"Because I want you to." He says this simply and without inflection, like a man used to having his way.

I allow myself to smile at him. "And do you always get everything you want?"

He shakes his head. "Not quite everything, no. But I think you like snuggling with me, too."

Well, he's not wrong about that. That's the whole problem. I do like it. I like it too much. And so, knowing I absolutely shouldn't do it, that all I'm doing is torturing myself, I slide over to Jared's side and allow him to pull me tightly against him again. I rest my head in the crook of his shoulder and close my eyes as he begins caressing my back. His warm breath threads through my hair and a low, rumbled "Mmmm" from deep in his chest makes me quiver.

"Cold?" he whispers.

"No," I answer shakily, not trusting myself to say anything more because if I do, Jared will know exactly what kind of effect his closeness, his touch has on me. I have to hold myself back for both of our sakes, but I'm not sure I have the superhuman will and strength to do that. Not when his warm living flesh envelops me. Not when he shifts a little and places a soft, gentle kiss on my forehead. Not when he combs my hair away from my face, using just his fingertips. And not when he slides those fingers under my chin, tilts my head up and his lips meet mine.

Though still soft and gentle, Jared's kiss devours me and I melt into it. His tongue is a true weapon of pure pleasure and God, does he know what to do with it. The thought of Jared using it in other places sends electric jolts through my body and I find myself forgetting all about holding back, all about Jared's insistence at not crossing lines. I'm too lost in sensation, in his touch, taste and scent. We're hurtling toward a point of no return, and distantly I wonder if Jared's forgotten his self-imposed limits, if he intends to take us to that precipice and over it. He wants to. The turgid evidence of that want, so thinly covered in soft blue silk, brushes against my thigh and a wave of euphoria carries me even higher than before.

Jared shudders, and a low groan escapes him. He pulls back a little, his steady gaze meeting mine. "Jesus Christ," he murmurs, his voice husky. "Dammit, Lanie, why do you have to do this to me?"

"I..." my voice trails off. What the hell does he mean by that?  _I,_ do this to  _him?_

Jared passes a hand over his face."We can't go there. You don't know how much it's killing me to say it, but we can't."

My sigh of frustration matches his. "I don't understand why you do this. And yeah, it's  _you_  doing this, Jared. Not me."

"I know it's me." His gaze is intense, whether from arousal, frustration, or both, I don't know. "It's me, and when this happens you have to tell me to stop, because otherwise there will come a time that I won't." He throws an arm over his face and lets out a long, shuddering sigh. "And that'll fuck everything up. Go back to sleep, Lanie."

I stare at him a long moment, my emotions flailing in every direction, before I withdraw back to the far side of the bed. I turn my back to him and stare out the window, at the sea of tiny city lights in the distance, at the silhouettes of tree branches gently swaying in the early morning breeze.

I don't get Jared. I don't get him at all.

 

***

 

There's an immediate, marked change in Jared's demeanor after that, a shift into the person Shannon describes as his brother being "on". A driven, focused man obsessed with order, with efficiency, with calling the shots on everything under his vast command. A demanding man with limited patience for anyone except Shelby. With her, he's open, smiling, animated, the guy she and I know. With everyone else, and especially with me, Jared has become a man I'm ready to throttle in no time at all.

I find myself spending the vast majority of my time with Shelby, though Jared often calls me from somewhere in the house to attend to some menial task. It's annoying, because many of those requests are ones that fall under the duties of the landscaping service or the estate manager, Magda—things like trimming the hedges or skimming leaves from the pool, or else directing the two Spanish-speaking housekeepers in some special cleaning and organizing project deep in an unused portion of the compound. At least it's an opportunity to brush up on my Spanish, a must-have linguistic skill if I'm going to stay in Los Angeles. Both of Jared's smiling, middle-aged housekeepers are friendly and tolerant of my horrid accent, and I find myself more at ease working alongside them rather than ordering them around.

Oddly, instead of getting a proper bed in his room, Jared still sleeps with me every night, requesting that the light in the bathroom be kept on. Often he wants me next to him, holding him as he drifts off. He doesn't kiss me again, but he does cling to me as if his life depends on me being there. But during the day he's all business, all about getting things done. He spends hours in the studio, and even more hours on the phone and on his laptop. It's as if he's determined to prove to these nameless, faceless people he's corresponding with that his physical limitation isn't going to hinder his work.

But he's pushing himself to the limit. I see evidence of his physical discomfort in the pain lines etched in his face, the tightness of his lips, the grimaces and gasps as he moves around the house. I see frustrated resentment evident that he's homebound and leaving the bulk of his work to others, and he seems determined to make up for it.

I'm surprised when he agrees with my suggestion to begin some simple physical therapy exercises. "Anything that'll get me out of this fucking cast sooner," he grimaces.

We begin with small steps; having him pick up small objects like dice and marbles with his toes. At first, he's unable to grip anything, but after a couple of days he's able to grasp the objects and lift them from the floor.

One day during lunch, the subject of Shelby starting school at Canyon View Elementary comes up. "Jimmy'll take you to get her enrolled this afternoon," he says offhandedly.

I set my fork down and look at him. "Jared, I'm really not comfortable with her going to school here."

He frowns across the table at me. "Why? This district is ranked among the highest in the entire nation."

"How do you know that?" I ask, a trifle waspishly.

He fixes me with a steady look. "Because I've researched it. Look, Lanie,she needs to go to school. She  _wants_  to go. Not to mention she's required by law to go."

I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. "I realize that. I'm not stupid."

"Then?" he gestures with one hand. "What's the problem?"

Of course he doesn't get it. Why would he? "She'll be going to school with a whole bunch of rich kids, the kids of movie stars, kids who've lived in mansions their whole life. She has no experience with this kind of privilege. And it's not really even that. It's that at her age, fitting in is so important, and she has absolutely nothing decent to wear, and I don't have the money to get her a whole designer wardrobe.  _That's_  what the problem is."

Jared sits back in his chair and stares at me. Then he slowly shakes his head and says, "Did you honestly think I haven't thought of that? Did you seriously believe that I wasn't going to take care of her clothing needs?"

I tear my eyes away. I hardly expect Jared to foot the bill for Shelby's school clothes, and I tell him that, adding, "I'm her mother, Jared. This is not your responsibility."

"The hell it isn't." He pushes away from the table, awkwardly, and grasps his crutches leaning against the table next to him. Struggling to his feet, he says, "I know you're her mother and that you're used to doing for her. I get that, and I respect that. But as long as Shelby's under my roof, she's my responsibility, too."

"But—"

"If it'll smooth over your ruffled pride feathers, I'll consider it an advance on your paycheck." Jared's rigid expression, his piercing stare, and the tone of his voice all tell me the matter is settled, and nothing I say is going to change his mind. "After enrolling her, Jimmy will take the two of you shopping. Okay?"

No, it's not okay, but Jared turns and lurches out of the room before I can formulate a response.

 

***

 

My pride is stinging. I'll admit that. Worse, I find I'm looking forward to the shopping excursion far more than I'll care to admit. Not that I expect us to end up on Rodeo Drive, but L.A. clothing stores are things of legend, almost mythical for people like Shelby and me who come from a place where Macy's and Nordstrom are about as upscale as they get. I'm kind of excited to experience the extravagance I've only ever read about and seen in movies before.

I send a protesting Shelby from the game room to her shower, while I quickly get myself cleaned up. It wouldn't do for either of us to show up at Canyon View Elementary looking like a pair of bums. Neither of us have anything very suitable to wear, but at least we'll be clean.

I'm bothered by one more thing, and that thing is weighing on me more and more as we meet Jimmy out front, waiting by his midnight-blue Pathfinder. That thing bothering me are the forms required to register Shelby in school. I have her birth certificate and social security card. I have a copy of her immunization record, so those aren't the problem. The problem weighing on me is how all of that paper might leave a trail.

Jimmy is aware of the situation, so I confide my concerns to him. "I mean, I know this stuff is supposed to be confidential, but Todd...he's good at this kind of thing. He...he knows people who are hackers and they can dig up information that they have no business being able to access."

Jimmy turns his dark gaze to me as we drive through the compound gates. "Then there ain't no better school district for Shelby to be in than this one. With all the kids of high-profile folks that attend Canyon View, they know how important security is. Trust me, Lanie. I don't care how good his hacker friends are, there ain't no way anyone can get into the school district's system. You think folks ain't tried? They have, and they've failed. It's encrypted tighter than an ant's asshole."

In the backseat, Shelby giggles and Jimmy glances up in the rearview mirror. "Sorry about that."

"No, it's funny," Shelby grins. I turn in my seat to look at her. She's gazing out the window at the beautiful homes lining the narrow street, a dazed but excited look in her eyes. Nope, there's no way Shelby will be able to be blase about living here, and that alone will set her apart from her peers.

Canyon View Elementary surprises me in that it's not much different than any other school I've seen. Other than the outdoor cafeteria seating, something Minnesota lacks due to its climate, and of course the gorgeous homes and semi-desert landscaping surrounding it.

It's not a large school, either, which I'm grateful for. The beautifully dressed and groomed secretary, a tall blonde woman, informs me that classes are kept fairly small. "Because Canyon View is one of several elementary schools in the area, and also because a number of children in the neighborhood attend private school rather than public," she explains as she hands me a folder full of forms.

Ah. That makes sense. I take a seat and begin filling out the paperwork. It's all standard stuff, but I make a point to mark that I do not want any photographs of Shelby to be published in any way for the public to view. I also make a point to request that only myself, Jimmy, Jared, Shannon, and Constance be allowed to pick her up, and that if anyone else tries, I am to be immediately contacted.

Then I turn over Shelby's birth certificate, social security card, and immunization record.

"We'll have to request records from her previous school," the secretary informs me when she returns from making copies of all the documents and goes through the forms I've filled out. She pulls an unsigned form from the paperwork and hands it to me.

I exchange a look with Jimmy, who shrugs. A look of hesitation must cross my face because the secretary adds, "Will this pose a...problem?"

I don't know if this will pose a problem or not. I'm reasonably certain Todd will ask Shelby's school if another district requested her records, but surely they won't give him any information about which one did. Will they?

The secretary stares at me. God, I must come off like a paranoid headcase. "It...no. It's fine." Quickly I sign and date the release and hand it back.

"Very well. You're all set, Shelby," the woman says. She smiles at my daughter, who's sitting in a chair against the wall looking both anxious and bored as she stares out the window at a group of small kids, maybe kindergarten or first-graders, on the playground. A couple of well-dressed women watch over them. "Would you like a tour of the school now?"

"Yeah," she nods. "But can I get Mrs. Bryce for my teacher?"

"Well, I don't quite know that yet. Do you know Mrs. Bryce or something?" the secretary asks, her eyes flitting between Shelby and me.

"She's hoping to be in the same class as my boy, Tyrell Quentin. Ty's the only kid she knows here, and they've kinda become best friends," Jimmy explains.

"I see," the secretary smiles and she writes something on a post-it note, affixing it to the folder containing the enrollment forms. "Well, we'll see what we can do, then." She rises and comes around the desk, shaking Shelby's hand and mine. "I imagine the records from Minnesota will come fairly quickly. Shelby should be able to start next Monday morning."

"Great," I smile, and we follow the woman out of the office.

 

***

 

"Where's a Goodwill around here?" I ask Jimmy a half hour later as we leave the school parking lot.

 _"Goodwill?"_ Jimmy's head jerks around so fast I swear I hear the bones in his neck crack. "You're kidding. Right?"

I stare back. "If you think I'm going to drop five hundred bucks on a pair of jeans Shelby will outgrow in six months, you're high as fuck."

Jimmy shakes his head. "If you think Mr. Leto will complain if you drop five hundred bucks on a pair of jeans Shelby will outgrow in six months,  _you're_  high as fuck."

But I stick to my guns, and finally, still shaking his head and muttering to himself, Jimmy drives us to Earth Angels, a high-end children's consignment store not far from Laurel Canyon. The place is a dream. Neat, organized, beautifully decorated and as well-appointed as any boutique shop I've ever imagined, but the sticker shock sends me reeling. These are used clothes and the cheapest things are easily quadruple what I'd ever paid new at Wal-Mart. 

"I'm not paying these prices!" I hiss at Jimmy. "Come on. There's gotta be something cheaper around here!"

But Jimmy refuses to budge. Grimacing, I select several items of clothing for Shelby to try on. One, a pink Gucci hoodie, retails at nearly four hundred dollars according to the store tags still attached. The thrift store price is a hundred and twenty-five. 

Insane. But Shelby has fallen in love with it and begs me to buy it.  Cringing as I calculate the total of our selections already, I add the hoodie to the pile of jeans, shirts, blouses, shoes, and accessories. Thrift store or not, this is is going to cost a goddamned fortune.  It'll take more than a few paychecks to reimburse Jared, that's for sure.

Shelby studies a bunch of dresses hanging on a rack. "Would you like to get a dress or two, Shelby?" Jimmy asks.

"I hate dresses," Shelby sniffs dismissively.

"You've never even  _worn_  a dress," I point out. "Not since you were a baby."

"Yeah. Because I  _hate_  'em."

Jimmy rumbles laughter and I roll my eyes. "Let's get out of here," I tell him. "She's got enough clothes."

Afterward, I remember that Jared mentioned something about being low on almond milk and could I please pick up some. So I ask Jimmy to stop at the supermarket near home. I run in and locate the milk, the cooler full of several brands and flavors. I see Califia Farms, the one that's at the house, but it's almost double the price of the cheaper brand. I finally select the cheaper one, pay for it, and leave the store. After spending on Shelby's school clothes what most people back home don't make in a month, at least I can feel good about having saved Jared a tiny bit of money.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Little do I know that the decisions I've made today are going to cause a shitstorm when I return to the house. While succeeding in my effort to be economical—relatively, as I'm still aghast at how much money I've just spent—this causes Jared to lose his temper on me for the first time.

Well, it isn't just me and my miserly ways. That's just the icing on the cake. Or, maybe the sprinkles on top of the icing.

Two unfamiliar cars are parked at the house when we pull in. Unfamiliar to me, anyway. One is a nondescript black sedan, with a uniformed driver sitting inside it. The other is a white Lexus. But they're apparently familiar to Jimmy, who curses under his breath at the sight of them.

Who's here?" I ask.

"That's Suzanne's car," he answers, pointing to the Lexus. He doesn't supply a last name or give her billing, as if I'm supposed to know who Suzanne is. "Not quite sure who's the limo. I can venture a guess or two, but if it was someone I really need to worry about, Mr. Leto would've called." He stops the Pathfinder beside the front entrance. "Need any help bringing stuff in?"

"I think we've got it." I get out, clutching the bag with the almond milk as Jimmy pops open the back hatch. Shelby and I load up both hands and arms with her clothing bags and we go inside the house.

Nobody is in the main front room, kitchen, or dining room. It's eerily quiet, in fact. "Where's Jared?" Shelby asks. "I want to show him all my stuff."

"He's probably with his company," I answer, setting down Shelby's bags on the dining room table and bringing the milk to the kitchen. Sliding it into the fridge, I continue, "Leave everything down here and out of the way for a little while. I'm sure he'll be out from wherever he is soon."

Shelby nods. "Okay. I'm gonna go to the tower. Call me when he's done, cuz I wanna be here when he sees the cool stuff I got." She scampers off down the hallway leading to the tower.

Left with nothing much else to do, I go to my room and pick up a novel based on Greek mythology that I borrowed from Jared. I decide to sit outside, leaving the glass door open to let the mild fall breeze into the room. I open the book where I left off and begin to read. Moments later, I'm pulled back to the here and now as I hear Jared speaking to someone. Low, but intense, and with a strained edge to his voice.

"This is nothing short of demeaning. I fail to see where I'd benefit in any way from an arrangement of this kind. What I  _don't_  fail to see is that it's a disaster waiting to happen. It already  _was_  a disaster. Besides—" there's a rhythmic thump and shuffle as Jared goes by my open bedroom door, and the footsteps of two other people, one of them wearing heels, it sounds like, also pass by— "even if it wasn't the most ridiculous idea that I wouldn't take part in even if I  _was_  a hundred percent, I'm sitting out the awards season this year. I've got weeks to go on this cast. You've got time to find someone else."

"But she wants  _you,_  Jared.  _Needs_  you," the woman who I presume is Suzanne says. "You know how the game works. You've played it enough times before, and you're perfectly aware that any woman who dates Jared Leto can count on an astronomical profile boost. She needs that buzz as she goes into filming  _Destination,_ and as the director, it'll serve to benefit you as well. Can't you understand the situation here?"

A harsh laugh devoid of humor. "She  _needs_  me? She should've thought of that before she made the mistake of lying to me and screwing me over. No. The answer is  _no._ I'm  _not_  doing it. As far as the film goes, I don't give a shit right now if a single scene of  _Destination_  is shot or not."

Though they've moved down the hall toward the front entrance, I clearly hear a male with a gruff, heavily Russian-accented voice boom, "My boy, money isn't the only means I have to persuade you that resuming a public relationship with my daughter is in your best interests as well as hers."

I get up from my Adirondack chair and go back inside just as Jared says levelly, "That sounds a little too much like a threat, Valkov."

"Look, gentlemen, this isn't going to—" the woman interjects.

The man cuts her off, his voice low and terse. "You can call it whatever you like, Jared. Ms. Hoffman, can I count on you to verify Katia's statements to the media?"

"Like  _hell_  you will, Suze!" Jared exclaims.

"Jared—" a pause. "Mr. Valkov, let me talk to my client. I'm sure we can reach some kind of agreement that'll prove satisfactory to both Jared and your daughter."

The conversation continues, but they move out of earshot and I fail to hear the rest. I'm quite sure I don't want to hear more, anyway. I sit on the edge of my bed and stare out the window blankly for several minutes.

A  _public_  relationship. Is this what Shannon was talking about that day, when he said, " _Hollywood is rife with fake relationships arranged for nothing more than publicity and profile boosting"_?

It's silent in the house now, so I slowly make my way down the hall, hoping these people have left and that Jared will be at least somewhat approachable.

Those hopes are crushed before I even get twenty feet from my bedroom door. Just before I reach Jared's room, I hear him cursing in there, and then his voice on the intercom echoes out from the speakers in the other rooms nearby. He's paging the housekeepers.

Carmen, the younger of the two, appears almost instantly from another room. She hurries to Jared's bedroom, where she's instantly met with a barrage of abuse in Spanish that's only half-coherent to me. Something about who folded and put away his laundry—she or Ana, the older housekeeper? Something else about being lazy, incompetent, and stupid.

I've never heard him speak this way to anyone before. Quickly, I step into Jared's bedroom where he stands leaning on his crutches for balance and clutching a sock in each hand. He flings them to the floor, muttering in English, "Get out of my sight, Carmen.  _Now."_

Poor Carmen is in tears, and immediately I speak up."What the hell is going on?" I demand.

"My socks don't fucking match,  _that's_  what's going on." He points to the offending pair on the floor. "One has elastic support around the foot, the other one doesn't. Those are two different socks, for Christ's sake. Anyone who isn't a blind idiot can see they don't go together!"

Is he kidding me? All this ranting and raving over a pair of mismatched  _socks?_  Carmen sobs harder, words of apology pouring out in broken English as she bends to pick up the socks. I move to her side, putting a comforting arm around her as she straightens and hurries out of the room. "It's okay Carmen," I soothe her in Spanish as we step out into the hallway.

"No,  _Se_ _ñ_ _orita_  Lanie,  _Señor_  Jared will fire me, and I am the only provider for my family. If I lose my job, we will starve, and—"

"You will  _not_  lose your job. I'll talk to  _Se_ _ñ_ _or_  Jared. It was a simple mistake that anyone, even he, would make. In fact," I continue, "I'll make sure he apologizes to you."

Carmen turns her wide-eyed, tearful stare to me. "He has never been a patient man, but he's never shouted at me or Ana like this before."

"And I'll make sure that he doesn't do it again," I promise.

 _"Gracias, Se_ _ñ_ _orita."_  Carmen hurries off, glad to put distance between herself and her uncharacteristically angry boss. Seething, I return to the bedroom and glare at him, still balanced on his crutches, tight-lipped, eyes still snapping cold fire.  _"Seriously?"_ I exclaim. "You just went completely unhinged on Carmen over a pair of  _socks?"_

"They don't match," Jared responds, his tone petulant but at considerably less volume than before.

"So? In the first place, you can't even wear two socks. In the second place, you never leave the house and you wander around here with your bare foot in a ratty old slipper. And in the third place, since when do  _you_  care if your clothing matches or not?"

Jared scowls. "Look, Lanie. I'm having a difficult day, and I can do without a lecture right now, thank you." 

"No shit you're having a difficult day, but that's no excuse to be an asshole to everyone else!"

Jared shoots me a glare as he makes his way to the door. But before I can formulate a way to tell him he needs to apologize to his housekeeper without setting him off, he glances over his shoulder at me and asks, "So, did you get Shelby taken care of?"

"And then some," I answer, quelling my own temper, at least for now. "She wants to show you her new clothes, if you're up for it. But never mind that right now. Jared, you really should apol—"

Jared glances at me as we go down the hall, his brows knit together. "If I'm up for it? What does that mean?"

"That means, you're obviously not in a real good mood right now."

He grunts. "Yeah, well, I just had an unscheduled meeting with Katia's father Ivan, and Suzanne Hoffman, my PR rep. I'm sure you saw their cars when you came back."

I debate whether or not to tell him what I overheard. "Yeah, I saw them. I take it the meeting didn't go well?"

Jared snorts. "About as well as expected. Katia's running her mouth and the press is eating it up. Where's Shelby?"

There was obviously a whole lot more to the meeting, but I prudently keep that to myself. If Jared wants me to know, he'll tell me. "She's in the tower. I'll call her down."

 

Shelby takes great delight in showing off her new things. Jared smiles and nods approvingly, admiring the pink Gucci hoodie and telling her she's got great fashion taste, but I can see that something's dreadfully wrong. It's been obvious since the moment he spotted the shopping bags on the table emblazoned with the store's name on them. He stared at the bags, scoffed, and then shot me a glare that I couldn't mistake as anything other than pissed off.   _Jesus,_ I think.  _What the hell is his problem today?_

As soon as Shelby takes her things to the tower, Jared rounds on me, his sky-blue eyes narrowed. "You bought her second-hand clothes for school? Are you fucking  _kidding_  me, Lanie?"

I stare at him, nonplussed. "What?"

"When I said get her a new wardrobe, I meant, get her a  _new_  wardrobe. Not other people's castoffs." He shakes his head. "Christ! What was Jimmy thinking, bringing you  _there?"_

"I  _made_ him bring us there. I'd have had him take us to Goodwill instead, but apparently this part of L.A. is just too snooty for Goodwill," I snap back at him. "As it is, the prices I paid were outrageous, but I did save you, and by extension  _me_ some money. A lot of money, in fact. What the hell is wrong with that?"

Jared sinks into a chair and rests his elbows on the table, burying his face in his hands. "I don't know what kind of asshole you take me for, but I never intended to recoup the money from you," he murmurs behind them.

"Huh?"

Jared lowers his hands and his eyes lock on mine. "I only said that to make you feel better about it. I told you, as long as Shelby's under my roof, she's my responsibility, too."

I stare steadily back at him. "I've never taken a handout in my life on my behalf or my daughter's, and I'm not about to start now."

Jared makes a disgusted sound, gets up, and hops his way to the kitchen. "I hope you remembered the almond milk," he calls over his shoulder.

"Yes, boss, I did," I answer under my breath. And even before I hear the refrigerator door slam, confirming it, I already know he's going to be livid about my penny-pinching on the milk, too.

"That isn't the almond milk I drink," he growls as he hops back into the dining room.

"It was half the price!" I protest. "What's the difference besides a carton as opposed to a fancy bottle?"

Jared rolls his eyes with an  _I'm-dealing-with-a-moron_ exasperated sigh. "There's a world of difference! I get Califia because it's actually almond milk, not eighty-five percent water and fifteen percent almond flavor. I get Califia because it's organic and locally produced and not full of chemicals and other shit." His voice rises. "I get Califia unsweetened vanilla, and you got unsweetened  _plain!"_ He's now shouting; Jared's actually  _yelling_  at me as he finishes with, "You follow me? Or do I need to draw it in color crayon?"

I stare at him in disbelief. Who  _is_  this man? Deliberately keeping my voice low, I hiss between clenched teeth, "How the hell am I supposed to know the difference? I've never bought or drank anything but cow's milk my entire life! And anyway, I'm over this spoiled princess act of yours, Jared. I really am. I'm so  _over_ it." With that I turn and stalk out of the room, shaking with anger.

 

***

 

It's hours before Jared and I speak again. For the most part I spend that time deliberating on what to do now. My options are limited. Very limited.

Grab Shelby and leave? I'm well aware that crossing into Mexico with the least chance of getting caught by authorities on either side of the border is going to eat up every last spare penny I have, if I even have enough. I hadn't counted on crossing in California but in Nogales.  According to Todd, who'd often considered Mexico as a potential "SHTF" bug-out destination, I know it'll cost more, a whole lot more, to pay off human smugglers on the California border, which is one reason why I chose Arizona in the first place.

Suck it up and stay? Jared's been more than generous. He's been amazing, the way he had the tower turned into Shelby's dream bedroom suite, and my room into a peaceful, beautiful haven with an incredible, million-dollar view of nature overlooking the city in the distance. We're fed, we're sheltered, we're living in luxury I could scarcely have ever imagined.

But the guy Jared's begun turning into is someone I want nothing to do with. Besides his display of temper and unreasonable, petty behavior and the weird vegan food, there's his perfectionism, his tunnel-vision focus on work, and the way he blows hot and cold with me that's driving me insane. I'm furious with him right now, yes, but that hasn't dampened my attraction to him in the least. I can freely admit that my body aches with unfulfilled need every second we hold each other at night. My lips still carry the imprint of his kisses; my flesh, the imprint of his touch. I burn to make love with him more than I've ever wanted anyone in my life.

But I can't have him. He's made that more than clear. What isn't clear is what he truly wants from me, and what he gains from sharing my bed and holding me close as he falls asleep. But it's obvious that it's important to him...at least until someone better comes along, someone he has no need to put up these mysterious boundaries with. No sense kidding myself, there  _will_  be a someone. Probably soon, too. And how am I going to handle that?

I'm a coward. Worse, I'm a fool. Yes, and I'm becoming a bigger fool by the day and that has to stop. Right here and right now.

One paycheck and we'll be out of here, I vow resolutely. Before my feelings for Jared completely eradicate any common sense I have left and tears my heart into shreds.

And then, just as suddenly, a voice whispers,  _but's not just your heart you must think about, is it?_

No, it isn't. Shelby will be destroyed if I yank her out of school as soon as she's barely started, take her from her beloved tower and her best friend Tyrell, and there's no way we can bring the two kittens with us, either. That's not to mention that she adores Jared, his brother, and his mom. It would be cruel and unfair to her. Shelby's growing up and has become her own person. If I take her away from everything she's come to love, she'll never forgive me.

 _Suck it up, Marlena McCarty,_  I tell myself.  _Jared's mood swings might give you a good case of whiplash, but he'd never hurt you or Shelby, never put a gun to your head, never go on four-day meth-fueled benders and beat the holy hell out of you. He'd never lock you up to keep you from your child. So don't even consider running off like a goddamned headless chicken just because he pulls a celebrity prima donna act when he's in a shitty mood and because he doesn't return your feelings. He's already been ten times the man Todd ever was and you didn't even have to fuck him for any of it._

I skip dinner that evening. Barbecued tempeh, yuck. Jared's probably not happy about having to fix it himself, I know it's not easy for him to cook when he's on crutches, but I need more time away from him before taking on round two or three or whatever with him. I go to Shelby's tower instead and we munch on tortilla chips and salsa in front of the TV and play with the kittens until her bedtime. Then I leave the tower and return to my bedroom, quite certain that I'm sleeping alone tonight for the first time ever in this house. The thought fills me with a confusing mixture of relief and regret.

But I step into my bedroom and there Jared is, lying on what I've come to think of as his side of the big bed, hands behind his head, bathroom light glowing as usual.

"It's about time," he murmurs with a half-smile. "Thought I'd have to get up again and call for you."

"Wait...what? You're sleeping in here with me?" I stammer.

"Of course I am," he replies. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Um, because...because we argued," I say weakly. "I didn't think you'd even want to."

Jared laughs his warm, low laugh. "Or, maybe you didn't think you wanted me to."

I lift my chin and stare down at him. "What if I said I don't?"

He arches an eyebrow. "Then I'd say you're not being honest with me, or with yourself."

Damn him. "Uuuugh. Whatever. Suit yourself," I groan.  With that I turn and stalk into the bathroom to get ready for bed, his gently mocking laughter trailing behind me.  

Okay, yes. I'm glad Jared's sleeping in my bed as if nothing happened. But I'll be damned if I'll let him know that. That bloated ego of his isn't going to get any further encouragement from me.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

"So, Magda texted me a little while ago," Jared informs me. "He was at LAX picking up Flora. She must be super anxious to meet you, because she wanted to come straight here from the airport. But I told Magda it's late and it's been a rough day for both of us. So she'll be coming by sometime late tomorrow morning. That okay with you?"

Why's Jared asking if it's okay with me? Magda's  _his_  estate manager, and Flora is  _his_  interior designer. "Sure," I agree. I pause my hands and apply more warmed massage oil to them. "It'll be nice meeting someone from back home."

"Yeah." The word comes out as a groan as I begin working again on Jared's lower lumbar area. "Goddamn, this feels good, Lanie. Your hands are like magic. An almost instant panacea."

I only wish my hands could reach in and soothe away what drove Jared into the state he was in most of the day. But that other guy is gone now. Tonight, the real Jared is back.

When I'm finished, I towel him off and remove the other towels under him. The nightly massage is one thing. Does he want me to cuddle and hold him now as I usually do? What if I do and he doesn't want it? Uncertainty fills me as I wash my hands and return to the bedroom.

Best to play it safe. I get in on my side and lay there, but Jared stares over at me, shaking his head.

"What the fuck? Oh, no you don't," he admonishes. "Come here."

After a moment of hesitation, I slide across the bed to him and he enfolds me in the embrace I now find so familiar and easy to melt into. "I know you're still pissed at me, and I don't blame you at all. I've been an absolute prick today," he murmurs in my hair.

"You'll get no argument from me," I agree. To my immense irritation, I find that I'm quickly thawing.  _Too_  quickly, damn him.

"For the record, I caught Carmen as she was leaving for the day and I apologized all over myself. Told her both she and Ana are getting a twenty-five percent raise, too."

"You did?" I look up at him, and his wide smile melts something in me, warming my flesh, softening my bones, and causing my heartbeat to quicken. Yep, I've more than thawed. I'm utter mush.  _Damn_  him!

"Uh-huh. My behavior was reprehensible toward her and toward you, and I'm sorry, Lanie. More sorry than you can imagine." He kisses the top of my head and gives me a little squeeze. "What did you call it? My spoiled princess act?"

"Yeah," I say. "But it's not like I wasn't warned, right?"

Jared laughs softly. "Yeah. You were. Straightening out my attitude when I act like an asshole is a primary function of your job, and you performed it very well. So thank you."

"You're welcome."

We lay together in companionable silence for a time, a silence during which I admit to myself that when Jared strips away the celebrity attitude, I don't stand a chance. He's gotten under my skin. Way,  _way_  under.

I just wish I could understand what goes on in his mind. Why, for instance, he insists on this every night; holding each other, caressing each other, and on those two occasions, giving me a glimpse of the passion he insists on keeping firmly in check.

Without question, Jared's crossed every line imaginable, crossed them time and again with dozens, if not hundreds, of other women. From actresses and models to groupies and teenage fan girls. Fourteen years ago he gave me a note, an invitation proving that selectivity isn't his strong suit. So why the boundaries with me now?

Jared's always been the one to test those boundaries. What if I do it for a change? Do I dare? Can I handle the rejection that's sure to follow? Sure I can, because I fully expect it.

Don't.

Do it.

Don't.

_Do it!_

I silence that inner argument the only way I can. I turn my head just a little and press my lips to his bare flesh, just under his collarbone where he's got 30 Seconds to Mars' motto,  _Provehito In Altum,_  tattooed. Beneath my lips, Jared's chest hitches and his arms around me tighten as my kisses make their way to the side of his neck.

"Lanie..." he whispers. "I...what..."

I silence him with a single finger over his lips as my own continue their journey. God, he smells so good, his flesh and his hair are like silk. I pause to nip his earlobe, eliciting a gasp, a further tightening of his arms around me, and another whisper of my name that sends a delicious shiver through me. Dimly, I realize I've never, ever, not even with Todd, been much of an aggressor in bed. I find that I'm liking this a lot, and I wonder how far he'll allow me to go before stopping it.

He doesn't stop me. Not when I place my palm against his cheek, turning his face to mine. Not when I lower my mouth to his. Not when my hands begin to explore his firm, sculpted chest, his abdomen that quivers under my touch. Not when I grasp his hip and turn him slightly toward me.

Our tongues swirl around one another's, our quickened breathing intermingles between us, and Jared's erection brushes against the part of me that's on fire and craves so much more. As does he. But despite that, surely Jared's going to end this any second now, his voice thickened with desire and regret about how we can't go there and then I'm going to move away from him and then I'm going to stare out the window and then I'm going to wonder all over again what it is about me that causes him to behave like this.

Sure enough, I detect his withdrawal before he moves to pull away. I feel his darkened eyes burrow deep into me. He slowly runs the tip of his tongue over his lips, caresses my cheek and whispers, "Was this some cruel form of punishment for the way I acted today?"

 _No, but now that you mention it..._ I shake my head. "I want to understand you, Jared," I say quietly. "And I want to understand... _this."_ I gesture between him and me.

He sighs deeply. "Yeah. I know." His hand drops to my shoulder and pulls me against him again. "I sleep so much better when I'm here next to you than I have in such a long time, Lanie. It's like the pain and this godawful itching in my leg doesn't even matter. My back doesn't spasm, though I'm sure the massages have a lot to do with that. My nightmares aren't as intense, except that first night. I just...it feels so good to hold you and feel you next to me. If I'm being a selfish bastard because of that, please just say so."

"I...no, I don't think that." I roll onto my back. "It's just these boundaries you have." I stare up at the ceiling. "You say you want me, you kiss me and you touch me and then you—"

"I know." He reaches under the blanket and gropes for my hand. "I send out the most extreme mixed signals."

"Bipolar," I mutter.

"I'm  _not_  bipolar," Jared says. "I might be an oddball, but not in any DSM way that I know of. Except maybe a touch narcissistic." I look at him and he shrugs. "But that comes with the job. Pretty much a prerequisite."

"I didn't mean  _you're_  bipolar.  _This_  is bipolar. I'd just like to know why, so I can understand you better. Why there are lines not to cross. Why crossing them will, in your own words, fuck everything up."

Jared closes his eyes and for a moment I wonder if he'll answer me. Finally he rubs his hand over his face, tugging at his beard. "Do you know who John Barrymore was?"

"No."

"He was an actor around the turn of the century. There's a famous quote attributed to him that goes,  _'Sex: the thing that takes the least amount of time and causes the most amount of trouble.'_ It's taken me a couple of decades of extreme self-indulgence to realize he was absolutely right. Sex has caused me plenty of trouble. Sex changes everything between two people, and once it happens there's no going back to how things were before."

I stare at Jared. "So how long has it been since you've taken a vow of celibacy?"

"I haven't taken a vow of celibacy, Lanie. Just with you, because I don't want to lose us the way we are now. And I know that's what'll happen."

I prop myself up on an elbow and stare down at him. "But you'll have sex with other women."

Jared shrugs. "Well, not in the foreseeable future, not with my leg cemented in a cast. That would make sex a little awkward for me. But yeah, I've got a high libido for a guy in his mid-forties and at some point I'm sure I will hook up with someone from time to time. Does that bother you? Because it shouldn't."

Unbelievable. He's  _unbelievable!_  I swallow past the rock that's lodged in my throat because he's right. I hold no claim on him, nor does he on me. We're friends, for want of a better word, friends who just happen to share a bed, kisses, caresses, and I'm so insanely over my head with this man it's ridiculous. But he's right. It shouldn't bother me if he fucks other women, because it means he doesn't care if he loses them or not, and while there's clearly some serious sexual attraction and chemistry between us, he  _does_  care about losing me.

Or something like that. 

My treacherous mind's eye locks on a vision of Jared and someone like Katia Valkov in bed; kissing, touching, naked, moaning their pleasure, their bodies joined. The rock in my throat swells into the size of a boulder. It takes everything I've got in me to carelessly shrug and reply, perhaps with a touch too much flippancy, "No, of course it doesn't."

He studies me carefully, and I wonder if he can read my thoughts, see the turmoil threatening to engulf me. I'm quite sure he can, because he says, "Look. Okay. I'm not trying to be obtuse or play word games, so I'll put it to you point-blank. Caring,  _truly_  caring for someone, and sex are mutually exclusive. They just don't work together. Not for me. Not in years, if they ever did." He blinks rapidly several times and his voice cracks a little. "If I didn't care so much about you, Lanie, I'd have fucked you a dozen times by now, broken leg and bad back or not." He touches my face and continues softly, "Obviously, I want to, more than I've wanted anyone in a very long time. But I know what a fatal mistake that would be."

I don't know what to say to this, so I simply nod and lay back down, and Jared pulls me close against him again. I rest my hand on his bare chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under my fingers, and I close my eyes. Do I understand him better now? Does Jared's compartmentalization of our relationship make  _any_ sense? I honestly don't know right now, but I do know that the thought of Jared sharing that most intimate physical act with another woman, or a series of other women, rips my heart wide open, never mind when it actually does happen. The visuals invade my mind again, and my breath hitches a little as I grit my teeth against the groundswell of pain threatening to swallow me.

Jared's shoulder under my cheek moves a little as he shifts around and kisses my forehead. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry," he murmurs against my flesh. "Christ, Lanie, that's the last thing in the world I'd  _ever_  want to do. That's the whole  _point_  of what I'm trying to avoid."

_Then don't talk to me about fucking other women like it shouldn't be a big deal, Jared. I don't think the way you do. I'm hardened and jaded in a lot of ways, yes, but not in the way you are. I can't lay in bed with someone I've fallen in love with, look at them and casually talk about my future plans to have sex with other people and—_

Wait.  _What?_

No. I didn't mean  _that._ Did I?

Hell, yes. I  _did_ mean it.

I'm in love with him. I'm in love with Jared Leto.

Oh, God. Oh, shit. Oh, no.

"I'm fine," I lie. "I'm really tired. Can we talk more tomorrow?"

He strokes my hair. "Of course. Goodnight, Lanie."

I'm not tired. Not anymore. I lay awake, listening to Jared's steady, even breathing as he slips into sleep, and then I raise my head to study his face. His eyes are closed, those beautifully chiseled lips parted just a little. I take the opportunity to study the face that people all over the world go crazy for, and it's just inches away from mine. Like his millions of adoring female fans, I can get lost in that face. But I don't have to look away when he opens his eyes and catches me staring at him, because he's mine.

No, he isn't mine. He's Jared Leto. As he's told me, he doesn't even belong to himself.

"I thought you'd fallen asleep," I say.

"Kind of hard to fall asleep when you're being stared at." He presses my head back down to his shoulder. "Ah, shit, Lanie. What am I going to do with you?" Without allowing me the chance to answer, and what could I say, anyway? Jared sighs and answers himself. "Oh, yes, I do know what I'm going to do. Tomorrow morning, I'm cooking breakfast for all of us."

"Oh, goody. Microwaved tofu scramble. Can't wait," I murmur sarcastically.

"No, I will make you and Shelby my specialty. Vegan pancakes. Trust me, they're legendary. Tomo and I developed the recipe years ago and my mom swears it makes the best waffles on the planet, so you know it's good."

Well, all right. I had Constance's vegan waffles a few times while staying at her house and they were absolutely, melt-in-the-mouth amazing. I close my eyes again and wrap my arms around Jared's waist, willing the dark thoughts away and for sleep to come as we snuggle close.

 

***

 

Jared's vegan pancakes  _are_  amazing. Just as good as Constance's waffles, and the bowl of fruit that I slice and contribute to the meal is the perfect accompaniment. Shelby and I both eat hugely.

"That's what I like to see," Jared remarks, pointing his fork at us. "My girls with an appetite for a change."

I shrug. "Pancakes are a universal food, no matter what kind of diet you follow. Even out in the wild I've made many different kinds."

"Of course, I could never forget the mesquite cakes," Jared grins, kissing the tips of his fingers. "Ah... _très_ _magnifique."_

I'm not sure if he's mocking me or not, because by no stretch were those mesquite pancakes anything close to good. Edible, yes. Maybe even decent, when choices are limited. Tasty, if you're absolutely starving to death. But magnificent? I raise my eyebrows at him. "So you speak French, too?"

Jared stabs a slice of mango with his fork. Popping it in his mouth, he chews, swallows, and nods. "Well, a little. I'm not what you'd call fluent. I know just enough to get by in a French restaurant or in simple conversation. In Paris, I like to have an interpreter. Makes things less awkward."

"Mom speaks French really good," Shelby pipes in. "Don't you, Mom?"

 _"Canadian_  French," I clarify. "I picked it up when I spent time in Quebec many years ago, just like I learned Spanish in Guatemala. But Canadian French, especially Canadian French spoken in the remote areas of the province where I was, is different than European French. Kind of like the differences between English spoken in America and other places in the world."

Jared takes a drink of his almond milk _—_ the cheap stuff apparently isn't as bad as he made it out to be yesterday, since it's his second glass this morning _—_ and he studies me over the rim. Setting the glass down again, he smiles. "You never fail to amaze me, Lanie. You're always so full of unexpected surprises that just come out at random times. I love that about you."

Oh, God. Okay, that's not the same as saying the actual words  _I love you_ , but it's close enough to send my heartrate into a pace that I'd otherwise achieve only by running a 5K at full speed.

I volunteer to clean the kitchen, as I know Jared's already sore from cooking _—_ successfully, too, given that he managed to do it while balanced on crutches _—_ and the majority of the mess is mine from slicing up all that fruit. I rinse the dishes and begin putting them in the dishwasher, humming softly to myself, barely aware of it when the humming becomes words.

_You saw what you get if you take what you take_

_Look in the eye of the test, it's all because_

_Now there's a feeling I get when I look to the left_

_I should never resist the searching for a sign—_

"You  _know_  that song?" Jared asks from behind me.

I spin around, the song dying on my lips. Jared stares at me, and all at once my stomach gives a jolt. It then plummets to my toes as I realize what song I was singing. 30 Seconds to Mars performed it immediately following Jared's leap into the raging pit to rescue me. Afterward I bought the album, played it endlessly that fall and winter. Of course I've never forgotten a single word of it. Music, especially when it's tied to a significant event, never leaves you.

"We never released  _End of the Beginning_  as a single. It was little more than album filler," Jared says slowly, a frown creasing his features. "Where have you ever heard it, and enough times to know the lyrics?"

Oh, shit. I wonder how much guilt is written over my face right now. Because of the way Jared's looking at me, there's probably plenty. There's surprise, yes. Is that...suspicion swirling in his eyes, too?

Oh, no. No, no, no. Why the hell have I played along with Jared's conclusion that I'd never heard of him before? Why didn't I set things straight immediately in Oak Creek Canyon?

_Think fast, Lanie. Really fast. You have to say something right now, and you'd better make it good. Or at least somewhat plausible._

"My _—_ my college roommate had that song on a...what do you call it, a whole bunch of different songs by different bands, you know what I mean?" Not bad for a made-up-on-the-spot story, but I'm speaking fast and just a little too breathlessly. God, I'm  _so_  bad at this.

"A mixtape?" Jared supplies.

"Yeah. A mixtape. And I always loved that song. That's...that's  _you?_  That's 30 Seconds to  _Mars?"_   _Oh, please, Lanie. Jared's no idiot. Even if this is a believable story, which it isn't, your nerves are blowing it out of the water. May as well fess up right now._

But Jared's expression clears a little, evidence that he buys my impromptu lie. He cocks his head and a slanted smile appears. "Funny, putting a deep cut nothing song like that on a mixtape, but hey, at least someone liked it enough to do it, and someone else played it enough to memorize it and still know it years and years later."

I realize I'm clutching Jared's milk glass tight enough that another millimeter of pressure and it'll shatter in my hand. I set the glass in the dishwasher as my heart begins to calm its frantic pace and my stomach starts crawling back to its normal place. "How weird," I remark. "I heard that song years ago, and it turns out that's  _you_  singing it."

"Wrote it and sang it," Jared says. "Why are you acting so flustered about it, though?"

Inwardly I swallow hard. Outwardly, I shrug but don't turn around. "Because it's...kind of embarrassing."

"Why is it embarrassing?" he asks, hopping over to me and leaning on the counter by the sink.

I look up at him. "Because I can't carry a tune in a bucket, and here I was slaughtering the hell out of one of your own songs right in front of you."

Jared laughs. "Oh, I've heard a little worse. Just a  _little_ , mind you." His eyes sparkle with a teasing glint.

"Oh yeah? When?"

He taps his chin with his forefinger and looks thoughtful. "Well, I had a house in another part of The Hills before I moved here. Once in awhile there was this pair of stray cats that would come around in the middle of the night and they'd fight right under my bedroom window and they sounded a little like _—ow!"_ he yelps as I swat his arm with the pancake spatula. "Okay...you're not  _that_  bad. I guess. Maybe a better comparison would be the coyotes in Oak Creek Canyon."

I wave the spatula at him threateningly. Jared laughs as he pulls me into his arms, pries the spatula from my fingers and tosses it in the sink. He crooks a finger under my chin and lifts my head to plant a quick kiss on my lips. "So anyway, I just heard from Magda. He and Flora will be here soon, and he said something about Flora wanting to take you to lunch." He presses his forehead to mine. "Shannon, Tomo, and Stevie are coming over around one and I'll be in the studio with them the rest of the day. You should come down and hang out with us when you get back. I don't know why you haven't yet."

I've been dying to watch the guys work in the studio, but he's never invited me to before, and I've never wanted to ask for fear of sounding intrusive or something. I tell him that, adding, "I'd love to see what goes into recording."

"Yeah, you should. You're really missing out. I mean, it's all so very glamorous, trust me. Hours of anxiety, repetition, frustration, and sometimes some heated arguments."

His gentle smile warms me clear to my toes. I tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear. "Sounds fun. I'll be sure to be there."


	18. Chapter Eighteen

It hits me after I leave the kitchen to get ready for Flora DuSchene's arrival, and now I'm left more confused and exasperated than ever. And yes, I grudgingly admit to myself, a little euphoric, too.

Moments ago, Jared stood in the kitchen in broad daylight, casually pulled me into his arms and gave me a kiss.

Having to come up with something on the spot for singing a song that I shouldn't know probably delayed the reaction to this very unexpected and out-of-character gesture from him. Or maybe it didn't hit me in the moment because it felt...natural. For both of us.

I shake my head as I start the shower, wondering if I'll ever figure Jared out. More than anything in the world I want to understand this enigmatic, multi-dimensional man. I want to know what makes him all that he is. A powerful persona, a man who, with his low, slightly raspy but steady voice, his piercing and unblinking gaze, or with just his presence has command of everything and everyone around him. And yet, below the surface I've glimpsed the vulnerability that he struggles so hard to contain and control. I've seen Jared without that mask; in Oak Creek Canyon, and, on a very few occasions so far, here in L.A.

As I undress, I think about the tears he shed when Katia left his hospital room. I remember last night and the way his voice caught as he spoke about his need to separate caring for someone and sex. It's as if this is a reality that causes conflict and immense pain in his soul. Why does he feel this way? What happened that led him to that belief?

I step under the luxuriously hot spray and allow it to soak my hair before reaching for the bottle of fragrant shower gel. It's scented with freesia and jasmine, a wonderful-smelling combination. I wonder as I have since arriving at Jared's house who picked it out for me. Whoever it was, they were spot-on with the choice.

Shannon might know why Jared's the way he is; he probably does know. But asking him is out of the question. He already cautioned me about getting too emotionally involved with his younger brother, advice I failed to heed. He'd know immediately that I've fallen for Jared, after assuring him I wouldn't.

Constance, then. Jared's mother seems to understand Jared very well. But...asking his own mother to share very intimate and personal things about her son with  _me,_  an outsider? No.

I scrub my body, rinse, and start on my hair. Squeezing excess water from it, I sigh, knowing the only way I'll get answers is from Jared himself. And it's up to him whether or not those answers are truthful, complete ones, and not the cryptic half-answers he's prone to giving.

My hair isn't even dry yet when Jared calls out over the intercom that Flora and Magda have arrived. I glance quickly at the clock; it's not even eleven. I quickly tie the damp mess back and hurry to the front of the house. Shelby has gone to Tyrell's, and they're spending the day swimming in Jared's pool. She's also informed me that Jimmy's barbecuing later on so she won't be accompanying me with Flora for lunch. Since Jimmy and Ty aren't by any definition vegan or even vegetarian, I envy her.

I slow at the entrance to the front living room as I hear voices from the foyer, and then they appear. Jared, who in the last week has gotten very adept with his crutches, nimbly hops down the three steps into the living room, followed by Magda in his customary outfit of black button-down shirt and gray pants. Next to him is Flora DuSchene. Her Native American heritage is evident in her olive skin, straight black, shoulder-length hair, her high cheekbones and her wide-spaced dark eyes. She's dressed expensively casual, with designer jeans hugging her slender curves and a boat-necked yellow tee that looks very good with her coloring. A brown and gold bag is slung over her shoulder.

All three of them look...not upset, exactly, but...tense. There's an charged undercurrent in the air that's palpable. Like something's wrong.

"It's so weird to see you like this," Flora tells Jared, and I immediately recognize the Northern Minnesota accent that Southern California hasn't erased. "Are you doing okay? Isn't it making you crazy?"

"If I didn't have Lanie, it would've by now, yeah." His eyes drift to me, standing uncertainly in the doorway. There's none of the usual lighthearted banter in his voice, and his eyes are dark and troubled. "And here she is. The woman who along with her little girl I owe my life to, who've kept me sane. Plus Lanie gives the best back massage I've ever had in my life. Lanie, this is Flora DuSchene. Flora, meet Lanie McCarty."

"Hi," I say somewhat shyly. I step down into the living room, feeling small and grubby in the presence of this beautiful, well-put-together woman, and I'm still wondering what's wrong. Something definitely is, and the way the three of them are looking at me, whatever's wrong has to do with  _me._

"Lanie. Oh, my God. It really  _is_  you. I recognize you from the photos all over the place." Flora looks me up and down, glances from Jared to Magda and back to me again.

"What?" I whisper, feeling faint as a cold spot forms and grows in the pit of my stomach. "What do you mean? What photos all over the place?"

"Everyone in Soudan is talking about the two of you, and your ex after what happened," Flora explains. "Thank God you're okay and that he never found you."

The cold spot grows bigger. "What's going on?"

Flora glances at Jared and Magda again and her eyes when they meet mine are sympathetic. "McCarty Camp—" she stops and bites her bottom lip, hugging her arms around herself.

I feel the cold dread snake through my body. "What about McCarty Camp?"

The sympathy in Flora's eyes deepens. "The feds were tipped off that there was a big meth operation going on there. They were going to raid the place, but before they could, people think Todd either got wind of it or maybe he did it out of revenge on you for taking Shelby from him, I'm not sure but—"

"What happened to my camp?" I breathe. My voice, like the rest of me, is frozen.

Flora grimaces. "It's gone. Burned down. Everything. The house, the cabins, the boats, every single building was leveled, and most of the woods caught fire, too. As remote as you are, it took awhile for the fire department to get there. By the time they did..." she shakes her head. "I'm so sorry to tell you this, Lanie."

There's screaming in my head, but I can't speak. I'm numb. I can't feel anything right now. Not horror, not anger, not grief. There's one emotion churning like acid inside me I can define, though, and that's guilt.

I shouldn't be surprised. I've known for a long time that Todd is more than capable of hitting me where it hurts most, and this time he scored a bullseye. But the worst part is that I failed my father. He trusted me with McCarty Camp enough to leave it to me in his will. Within a year of his death it became the epicenter of a drug ring. I left it, and Todd destroyed it.

"Lanie?" Jared moves to my side and slips an arm around me. "Are you okay?"

No. No, I'm  _not_ okay. The one place on earth where I felt like just being me is good enough, all of my father's love and hard work, all of the countless precious memories, everything I've held dear to me, is gone. And Shelby...God, how can I tell Shelby that her own father did something this horrible?

"I...I'm okay," I murmur, lifting my chin and swallowing the primal scream in my throat. "Are...are the authorities looking for Todd?"

Flora nods. "Yes. And for you and Shelby."

I let out a sharp laugh. "For kidnapping my own kid and leaving the state, I suppose."

Jared's arm around me tightens, and Flora shakes her head. "No. They want to build a case against Todd, and believe you hold key information that'll help." She glances at Jared. "Also, with him on the run, no one knows where he is or what he might do. Under normal circumstances I can't imagine how he'd find you here, but Jared's a public figure, everything he does and everyone he does it with is news, so..." she trails off, but the implication is as clear as if she shouts it.

I steal a glance at Jared. He stares back at me. "No. Don't even go there, Lanie," he murmurs. "I can see what you're thinking, plain as day."

Magda clears his throat. "Jared, I feel under the circumstances, it would be wise to beef up your security detail. Jimmy can't be everywhere at once."

"Oh, God," I murmur, rubbing my eyes. "Wouldn't it be wiser, not to mention safer for Jared if Shelby and I just—"

"No!" the word rings out sharply, making me jump. I turn and stare at Jared. He lets his arm drop from my shoulder and his hands grip his crutches tightly. His voice softens as he continues, "Lanie, I told you when I asked you to come to L.A. that you're safe here, that I can keep you safe. And I will." He looks at Magda. "Yeah. Do it. I want you to round up a team of security. Get with Jimmy, coordinate the details, and let me know what you come up with. I want this done right now."

"You got it." Magda nods and hurries out the front door. I watch his form pass before the windows as he heads toward Jimmy's house in the back of the compound.

"I'm so sorry," Flora says again. She approaches me, her eyes solemn. "This isn't the way I'd hoped to meet you, but when I found out exactly who you were I knew I needed to see you as soon as I got back. Magda's right, you know. From what I heard on my visit home, your ex-husband really is out of his mind."

I cast my eyes to the worn tile floor. "He was bad enough after he got out of the army. Paranoid, angry, suspicious of everyone and everything, and sometimes he got violent. But that was nothing compared to when he got on meth. He went completely crazy then."

"It's an epidemic there," Flora sighs. "Even little tiny Soudan has a meth problem. Now heroin's moving in, too."

My knees feel weak and I move to a nearby chair where I sit with my head in my hands. This is the one thing I've feared since the night I went to Todd's trailer, gun in hand, ready to battle to the death for my daughter. We got away that night and for all the nights since, making it all the way to Los Angeles and into Jared's home. But how much longer do we have? And I've pulled other people,  _innocent_  people, into this mess.

"Lanie?" Jared's voice is gentle, as is his touch as he strokes my hair. I lower my hands and look up at him. "I know you're shaken up right now, but I think you should still go have lunch with Flora. Nothing's going to happen in the next few hours and you've been cooped up in here with me. You need to get out and chill a little bit. Go see the city. Have some fun."

"Fun." the word comes out harsher than I intended, and I draw a ragged breath. "I'm not sure I can eat anything. And this place is gigantic. I'd hardly call being here 'cooped up'."

Jared gives me a half-smile. "Yeah, well, I want you to go enjoy yourself for a change. You've earned it. You  _need_  it." He looks over at Flora and gives her an almost imperceptible nod. "I'll be in the studio with the guys, and I'll see you when you get back. I look forward to it." He bends then, balanced precariously on one foot and his crutches, and kisses my cheek before leaving the room.

I watch him go, and then turn to Flora. "Would you like to meet Shelby?" I ask.

"I was just going to ask if I could," Flora agrees. "Where is she? In the tower?"

"She's in the pool, swimming with Jimmy's son, Tyrell." I get to my feet. "I still don't feel much like lunch, but I think Jared's right. I might as well get out and enjoy a little bit of L.A. while I still can without worrying about being recognized."

Flora shoots me a look of amusement as we step outside. "Oh, honey," she says, "after today you might not have to worry too much about that at all."

 

***

 

Yes! We're having lunch at a restaurant that serves actual meat! My appetite roars back as we're seated in a booth, menus placed in front of us. My mouth waters as I study the offerings and decide on a French Dip with roasted peppers and cheese. "Make that extra cheese," I add.

"Excellent choice. I'll have the same," Flora tells the waiter as we hand him our menus back. When he's gone, Flora grins across the table at me. "Not adapting too well to the vegan life, eh?"

"Honestly? Not really," I admit. "I was raised on wild game, for Christ's sake. Venison, grouse, duck, pheasant, along with the usual beef, chicken, and pork. The McCarty's are a long line of carnivores."

"Oh, I hear ya. And you can hardly be an Arrowhead girl without loving some beer-battered Walleye you caught yourself, eh?" Flora says. "I remember the big fish fries we had in the summer. Good stuff, that."

I smile back, flashing on a series of memories much the same as Flora's probably are, having been raised in similar environments. One memory stands out; that of my dad and I fishing in the canoe he and I made by hand when I was about twelve or thirteen. Hours spent hollowing out that big Norway Pine log, patiently carving the bow and stern to perfect symmetry, sanding it by hand, taking it out on short rides around the bay of the lake, catching crappies and sunfish...and then the smile fades, replaced with a deep, sharp pain as I remember. That canoe, like everything else I've loved my whole life, is gone. My dad, my home that's always been so much a part of my soul, our belongings, treasured photographs and mementos of those happy formative years, all ashes now.

The pain must be apparent in my face because Flora leans over and murmurs softly, "Listen, Lanie. I know it doesn't help much, but what's important right now is that you got away from him. You and your daughter are going to be fine. I've known Jared for a few years now, and he's a good guy. Kind of a mess sometimes, kind of a prima donna other times, but he's a very good guy. A lot better than most in this town. A whole lot better than the other actors and musicians I've had for clients, I'll tell you that much. I love him to pieces, and Magda's fiercely loyal to him."

"He is a wonderful man. I'm glad he's got good people like Magda around him," I agree.

"Yeah, I am, too. Though I might be a bit biased where Magda's concerned. So... tell me what happened in Arizona, how you found him. What I've heard is amazing. God, he really did almost  _die_ out there, didn't he?"

I tell Flora the story, our sandwiches arriving somewhere in the middle of it. We eat and I continue talking, Flora hanging on every word. Finally, I ask her, "So, how long have you been in L.A.?"

"About ten years now," she answers, dunking a piece of bun in her cup of au jus. "At first I was scared to death, like, how can some nobody native girl from the Minnesota northwoods make her mark out here?" she shakes her head. "It took awhile, but I got a few small jobs for TV commercials, basically as an assistant to an assistant to an assistant, you know? Worked fast food jobs to supplement my income, but it was still really tough making ends meet. Lots of hungry days back then. I always kept my bags packed, knowing in the back of my mind that I could always go home.

"But God, I didn't want to, Lanie. I really wanted to make it out here, I loved my work. There was nothing back in Minnesota for me career-wise, and so I sucked it up, kept eating ramen noodles, working my ass off, and making connections everywhere I could. And then as they say, one thing led to another. My work got noticed, I got bigger jobs, and finally I unpacked my bags."

"The work you did on that tower for Shelby, and my bedroom, is incredible," I praise her. "Shelby's over the moon about it, as you could tell when you met her."

Flora's smile broadens. "It was my pleasure. I don't think I ever enjoyed a project as much as that one. Jared gave me complete free reign and I just went with what felt right. I'm glad Shelby loves it as much as I loved designing it." She sits back and sips her water. "And you like your bedroom too?"

"Oh, my God, yes. It's so peaceful, so calm and serene. Jared thinks so, too. He says every morning when he wakes up he feels—" I stop, horrified. "I—I mean—" oh, shit. Oh.  _Shit._ Flora's eyebrows are up, her eyes are wide, and my foot is firmly entrenched in my mouth. And there's no graceful way out of this one.

"Well, well, well," Flora's smile is huge. "I didn't know how to ask, and really, I didn't have to, did I?"

My hand shakes a little as I pick up my water glass and drink to hide my discomfiture. "Ask what?"

"Oh, there's a teensy chance I'm reading it all wrong so you know what, I  _will_ just say it, Minnesota girl to Minnesota girl. Are you in love with Jared?"

I squirm in my seat. "I—you...really shouldn't ask me that."

"But I just  _did_  ask you that. You don't have to answer, and by that I mean you really  _don't_  have to answer because I can see it with my own eyes."

I sigh, giving up. "Great. It's that obvious, huh?" I'm more than mortified...if Flora can see into me that easily after knowing me a whole what—hour? Then it might as well be written in neon across my forehead.

"Hey. You're not the only one with their heart on their sleeve," Flora pauses while the waiter stops and tops off our ice water. When he's gone, she leans forward again, a conspiratorial grin on her face. "I've known him long enough, seen him with other people and by that I mean women. Now, I've never been much of a gambler, but if I was, I'd bet my next three design projects that Jared is in love with _you."_

"No, he's not." I toy with the stem on my water glass, turning it in my fingers. "He cares about me and about Shelby especially, yes." I look up at Flora. "Don't judge by quick appearances. He's grateful to us, and we're good friends. But that's not love."

"No, he's different with you. I could see it instantly. I know I've only seen you together for a few minutes, but it's not only me, Lanie. Magda thinks so, too." She peers intently at me. "Now, I couldn't be happier, because Jared needs a woman like you in his life, a down-to-earth girl who won't take him for everything she can, a woman who loves him for himself and not because he's famous and can boost her career. Magda wouldn't say anything to him because, well, Jared's his boss and it wouldn't be appropriate. But I'm his friend, and I've told him countless times that he deserves better than what he's allowed himself."

"He's a complicated guy," I murmur. "It's hard to know what he's thinking sometimes. But he's not in love with me, Flora. That much I know."

"What makes you say that?" Flora wants to know.

I pick up a french fry and nibble on it, not meeting her eyes. "We sleep together, but we're not... _sleeping_  together, if you know what I mean. He's made it clear we aren't going to, and it has nothing to do with his broken leg." I pause, knowing I'm saying more than I should. "But he'll sleep with other women. He said so. Point blank."

Flora sighs. "Yeah, Jared's got a pretty voracious appetite. His reputation is legendary. But that's just it, Lanie. That's proof right there that you're special to him."

"Special?" I counter. "How does that make me special?"

Flora digs into her bag and produces her phone. "Okay, fine. Proof. You want proof?" She wakes the screen, taps it a few times, and then exclaims, "Ah, yes! This one's perfect! It's from early this morning. Here you go." She hands me the phone.

I take the phone and look at it. Displayed is a photo of Jared in my bed, hair messy, eyes heavy-lidded, with a small, almost self-conscious smile. The caption on it reads,  _True healing starts from the inside._

"Where'd you get this?" I ask, handing the phone back to her. "Did he send it to you?"

"Nope, it's on his Insta."

"Insta?" I look at her blankly.

"Instagram." At my uncomprehending stare, Flora cocks her head. "Wait. You don't know what Instagram is? Snapchat? Twitter? Facebook, for crying out loud?"

"No. Well, I've heard of Facebook and Twitter, but—"

"Oh, my God. Social  _media,_  honey. It's how Jared...how  _everyone_...communicates with the world!" She stares at me like I've got two heads. "I cannot believe in 2017 I've met someone who's never used social media. You really  _have_  been off the grid."

"I know," I mumble. "But I've never had any interest in computers or these newfangled cell phones, never saw the need for it. Todd used the internet to communicate with other militia and prepper groups, but he never allowed me or Shelby access to it."

"Well, this photo of Jared has gone out to about nine and a half million people. Along with a bunch more pics and videos. He's been snapping and tweeting since he got out of the hospital, keeping The Echelon up to date on his progress, and with every photo or status update he's always hinting around stuff like this. Like there's something...or someone...who's been there for him, someone who means the world to him."

"Wait...did you say The Echelon?"

Flora's eyebrows shoot up. "The fans of Jared and 30 Seconds to Mars are called The Echelon. You didn't know that, either?"

I shake my head. I know they have a song called Echelon, but... "See, this all proves my point. He hasn't told me  _any_  of this."

"What do you think this caption means, then?" Flora gestures with the phone.  _"True healing starts from the inside."_

"I think you're reading too much into it," I say and concentrate on my sandwich. But for some reason, it's not sitting as well as I'd thought. Perhaps all these days of veganism have changed my taste buds or something, but the meat is too rich, too...too  _meaty._ I set the sandwich down half-eaten and focus on the rest of my fries, instead.

"If you don't want any more, I'll take the rest of that home to Wilson. He's our Cocker Spaniel," Flora offers. I gladly hand over my plate to her and she requests a carry-out box from a passing waiter. "Just as well you didn't stuff yourself, anyway," she continues as she places her credit card in the black folder containing the bill. She hands it to the waiter when he comes back to the table with the carry-out box. "We've still got lots of things to do."

"We do?" I ask. "Like what?"

"You'll see," Flora says with a little smile.

 

***

 

"Oh, my God," I breathe, staring at myself in the mirror almost three hours later. In the reflection a total stranger moves her mouth as I add, "I don't even recognize myself."

Flora slings an arm over my shoulders. "You're beautiful, Lanie. Not that you weren't before, I mean...any idiot could see that you're naturally beautiful...but  _wow._  A cut, a splash of color, new clothes, makeup, and voila, Lanie McCarty goes from beautiful to a total knockout." She glances at the stylist hovering in the background, then leans over a little, whispering, "Jared's going to shit himself, and I mean that in the best possible way."

I continue gazing at my reflection, trying to wrap my head around the fact that the woman gazing back is me.

The changes aren't huge, not if I look at them one at a time. My hair, which fell well below my waist before, has been cut—a good eight inches is gone off the back, and the dreads are gone, too. I feel a little sadness at that and tell myself it isn't because Jared's always liked to play with them when we lay in bed at night. But they were growing out and in terrible condition.

A cut, highlights and lowlights added to give the plain ash blonde a multi-dimensional depth, and styled very simply with a few curls here and there, nothing extravagant. I find I like it a lot, even though it's certainly not the way I'm used to wearing it.

Then there's the makeup.. I haven't worn makeup in years. Not since college, and only sporadically then. It feels weird, like there's a slippery mask on my face, even though Flora insists that the makeup artist used a light hand. It sure doesn't look or feel like it.

On top of the salon and the clothes, there was the spa treatment. Oh, my God, women actually put themselves through this willingly? My legs were coated in wax which was then ripped off along with scads of hair. Ditto my underarms. My eyebrows, too. Gritting my teeth, I went along with each of these, but I absolutely balked at the Brazilian wax once I found out what it was. Oh, hell, no. No, no, and never.

"Women do it all the time," Flora encouraged when I flatly refused. "Yeah, it's not the most enjoyable thing that your girl bits have ever experienced, but you do get used to it. Sometimes beauty is pain. Seriously. Come on, Lanie, do it this one time, just so you can say you did."

Yeah. Well, I can now say I've had a Brazilian wax. I can also say I'll never have another. I have a high pain threshold but my God! I can't believe women do this stuff to themselves on  _purpose._

And finally, the clothes. As soon as I looked around and realized we were on the famed Rodeo Drive I protested, but Flora wasn't hearing of it. And so we went shopping in some of the stores I'd heard so much about. I felt a little like Julia Roberts in  _Pretty Woman_ , entering these upscale, elegant stores knowing I have no business in them. But Flora was adamant, and I reluctantly tried on a few things, all the while hoping to spot a clearance rack somewhere full of jeans and t-shirts. Of course there weren't any.

Fortunately, Flora agreed that the bulk of my purchases should be practical, casual attire, and I willingly bought jeans and t-shirts, though the prices were enough to make me a little nauseous. But there were a few things she insisted I need "because every woman needs them." Like a little black dress. Like heels. Like lingerie. The fact that I've made it this long without any of them falls on deaf ears.

"That black cocktail dress is divine," Flora gushes now. She hurries to the pile of bags on the sofa in the salon and returns with the dress. "Look at this." She holds it up in front of me. "Lanie, you're totally stunning. And those heels you got to go with this dress? Oh, my God, yes. Sexy as hell."

No, the  _price tag_  on the dress is stunning. And the heels Flora found to go with the dress?  _Sexy?_  I'll wobble around like a newborn calf in those things. I can't believe I let Flora talk me into buying this stuff.

Well, I reflect as we leave the salon and haul my things to Flora's car, _I_ didn't buy any of it.  _Jared_  did and I'm going to strangle him when I get home. If he knows me at all, he should know that I'm not a girly-girl. I'm not stunning, I'm certainly not sexy, and I don't have a clue how to be even if I want to—even if Jared wants me to. New clothes and hairstyle or not, I'm just me, and I don't know how to be anyone else. And I don't  _want_  to be anyone else.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

"Flora, can I ask you something?" I begin hesitantly as she merges into traffic on Wilshire. "If I'm crossing the line or anything, just let me know."

Flora glances over at me. "Sure, go ahead and ask."

I swallow hard. "It's about Katia Valkov."

"Oh, God," Flora sighs. "Biggest mistake Jared's made in a long, long time. What do you want to know?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I mean, I kind of met her once, when Jared was still in the hospital. She seems..." I search for a proper adjective, and settle for, "intense."

"Intense," Flora repeats, her attention on the traffic. "What she is, is a rich little fame-ho. Correction: she's a spoiled rotten, rich,  _talentless_  little fame-ho."

"Yeah, but I guess she's been talking to the press, and her father wants Jared to be in a 'public relationship' with her again to boost her...whatever...her profile, or something. He came to the house and told Jared that. So did Suzanne Hoffman."

Flora stops at a red light, lowers her shades and stares at me. "Oh, geez. And  _Suzanne's_  on board with this charade starting up again? Really? What did Jared say to  _that?"_

"He said no. But..." I sigh. "Then he was in a horrible mood the rest of the day, so..." I trail off, gazing straight ahead at the passing traffic on the cross street. "This whole  _public relationship_  thing. I keep hearing about it."

"That's because it's pervasive in Hollywood. Jared's played the game a number of times, and he's a pro at it." The light turns green and we start moving again. "He's a method actor and a great one, so playing the part of a devoted boyfriend for the paparazzi, making it look completely natural and believable even with a woman he pretty much despises, is second nature for him— it's just another job.

"But Katia? Yeah, I know she's been talking to the media. She's denying rumors that she and Jared split up this summer, acting like she's been at his side nonstop since his accident, and all sorts of bullshit like that. She went back to New York a few days ago. Carried on about how reluctant she was to leave Jared and return to the east coast for work, but that he encouraged her to go, not to neglect her career for him." Flora scoffs in disgust. "It's pathetic. The tabloids just post whatever she says, but most of The Echelon know she's full of shit and they're pretty vocal on the socials about it. Jared probably won't dignify any of it with a response either way, which is the wisest thing he can do. As his rep, I hope Suzanne's smart enough to do the same."

I stare out the window again and unconsciously breathe out a long, quivering sigh. "But there  _was_  a relationship between them at one time. I mean, a real one. There had to be."

"Yeah, I suppose there was, until he found out what a snake she is." When I don't respond, Flora groans, "Oh God, Lanie. If you think for a minute that Jared still has feelings for her, you're very mistaken. Whatever feelings he may have had were superficial at best, and died before he met you."

_Superficial? Really? Then why was he crying when she left his hospital room?_

The rest of the drive back to Laurel Canyon consists of lighter topics; how Flora adjusted to a much faster, busier way of life, the celebrities she's met and worked with, and two big-budget movies for which she's preparing early drafts of set designs and has a number of meetings coming up about them. "Super exciting," she enthuses. "You'll definitely have to come check things out once we're ready to roll."

"I'd love to," I say sincerely. The whole behind-the-scenes aspect of movie-making sounds interesting and I'm curious to see how all of the elements come together to produce what I've only experienced as a viewer of the finished product. Much like I'm interested in how Jared, Shannon, Tomo, and Stevie put together builds and structure, drops and progressions, loops and bridges and all the other mysterious jargon I've heard them talk about, and then add a sheet of Jared's scribbled lyrics to turn it all into a song.

Once home, I find I'm inexplicably nervous. What if Jared isn't as impressed by this makeover of mine as Flora thinks he'll be? What if he looks at me and regrets the money he spent? Should I put on the dress and heels? Or something else?

"Not the dress," Flora advises. "You don't want to show him all the goods at once. Save that for a date night or something, and surprise him with it then."

"What date night?" I shake my head as I carry my things to my bedroom. Finally, my closet will have something to put in it.

"Oh, there'll be one," Flora replies as she sets an armload of bags on my bed. "After Jared's out of the cast, and I'll bet it'll be very soon after."

"Huh. Not if he's 'dating' Katia Valkov," I point out, curling my fingers into quotation marks.

"He won't be. And if he  _is_  stupid enough to do that, I'll make it my personal mission to kick his ass. Now, what should you wear?" Flora takes my new clothes out of the bags. I watch as she holds tops up against pants, frowning thoughtfully as she studies each combination. Finally, she nods. "This off-the-shoulder black top would be cute with those acid wash skinny low-rise jeans and the gold sandals."

"Okay." I take the items into the bathroom and change, careful not to screw up my hair or my makeup. I'm surprised either have lasted this long as it is, with my nervous habits of playing with my hair or rubbing my eyes. Once dressed in the new clothes, I study myself in the full-length mirror. Not bad, actually. Still enough of me remains so that I'm not totally uncomfortable. The look is casual, but of course a whole lot more stylish than I'm used to.

"Perfect," Flora announces. "I hope he likes the new you as much as the old you. I'm pretty sure he will. Now, I better get going. If you see Magda, remind him I have a late dinner meeting with George and Amal tonight." She grins. "By the way, what I said about actors and musicians? Scratch that about George Clooney. He's a sweetheart, and their twins are so adorable. They just bought a new house and we're going over plans for the boys' nursery." She steps up to me and gives me a careful hug. "I had a great time today, Lanie. I hope you did, too."

"I did," I murmur truthfully as I return the hug. "Thank you for lunch and for everything."

"Remember the Brazilian wax aftercare stuff," she reminds me. "Very important, or you'll be miserable. Trust me, I found out the hard way." She winces at the memory. "Rashes are very uncomfortable, and  _very_  unsexy."

I don't bother telling Flora that no one's going to be seeing anything down there, sexy or otherwise. "I'll remember."

"We'll talk soon, Lanie. And—" her dark eyes soften— "I'm sorry again about what happened to your home. I hope they catch the bastard soon, and you'll never have to worry about him again."

 

***

 

Shannon's the first to notice me as I enter the soundstage area. He looks up from his drumkit and his eyes grow round. "Whoa...holy shit...  _Lanie?"_

Behind the keyboard, Stevie looks up and over at me. "Damn!" he exclaims and wolf-whistles. This alerts Tomo, who is across the room studying something on a computer screen. His reaction is the same as his bandmates, along with a wide grin and a raised-eyebrow look over at the other boys.

Meanwhile, Jared's sitting with a white electric guitar in his lap, headphones on, eyes closed, his fingers flying over the strings. He's somewhere else entirely. Shannon comes out from behind the drums and gives his brother's shoulder a nudge.

 _"Goddamn_  it!" Jared complains as he opens his eyes and glares up at Shannon. "What'd you do that for? I've been working on this bridge for two hours and I almost fucking  _had_  it!"

"Uh...look." Shannon nods at me. Jared turns from him, spots me, and he freezes. His blue eyes widen. Slowly he removes the headphones and drops them on the floor.

"My God," he murmurs.

"Is that...good or bad?" I speak up for the first time, and my voice is tiny and uncertain, very much unlike my own. My hands can't stop themselves from wringing and twisting around each other, and the toes of my right foot rub the heel of my left and I nearly lose my sandal in the process.  _He hates it. There's no smile, no compliments, nothing. He hates it. All that money, and he hates it._

"Excuse me for a minute, guys." Jared lifts his guitar strap from his shoulder and sets the instrument in a stand next to him. He grabs his crutches and pulls himself upright. "I'll be right back."

I don't miss the grin that passes between Shannon, Stevie and Tomo, but there's none on Jared's face as he comes toward me. "Come with me," he orders softly as he passes by.

Left with no option, I follow him, bracing myself for a barrage of complaints, though I have no idea what he disapproves of. Do I really look that bad? Or is it that I went too far, or perhaps not far enough?

Around the corner of the long hallway, Jared stops and turns. His eyes scan me from head to toe, once, twice, but he says nothing.

"You don't like it," I say. It's a statement, not a question.

"No."

My heart drops. "Is it too much, or is it not enough?" I gesture helplessly with my hands and speak fast. "Jared, I wasn't expecting a _makeover._  I don't know about any of this kind of stuff and what looks good and what doesn't. Flora surprised me with this whole thing, I mean, I thought we were just going to  _lunch,_  not the shopping or the hair or the spa, and I—"

"Lanie." he says my name slowly, softly. "I don't  _like_  it."

"Yeah, I  _get_  that you don't like it. Okay. I—"

"I  _love_  it." His eyes have that teasing glint in them, and the beginnings of a smile cross his lips.

"Huh? You—oh, you little shit!" I hiss. "I thought you hated it."

Jared laughs. "I know. I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. You look amazing. Still you, which is what I'd hoped for. I didn't want too much, and this is just right. And now I can't help myself again, because I'm going to kiss you." He gently pushes me against the wall. "I just hope I don't ruin your makeup."

"The hell with the makeup," I murmur as his lips come closer and I wrap my arms around him.

"I agree," Jared whispers, and then his mouth is on mine. His lips are so soft, his tongue as it slips inside to find mine, is electric. Waves of desire wash through me, curling around every nerve, igniting me from head to toe. My pulse quickens and throbs as Jared presses the length of his body against mine, his hand twists in my hair and tugs firmly on it, and a soft, kittenish sound escapes from me.

His other hand wraps around my neck, pressing lightly against my windpipe with his thumb as he strokes it slowly up and down, applying just a little pressure. He growls, deep in his throat, making me shiver. Then he leaves my neck, reaches down and cups my bottom, pulling me even more intimately close against him. He releases my hair and goes where he's never gone before, cupping my breast, thumb stroking my nipple into a tight, highly sensitive bud as his hips grind against mine. Through his loose-fitting track pants, his erection is pressed firmly against me, rubbing against the newly sensitive apex between my legs.

He's warned me that I'm supposed to stop him, but I don't know if I'm capable of it. My head's spinning. I can't think beyond the sensations he's evoking in me, at least not until I hear the thump-thump-crash of Shannon's bass drum and cymbals, a jarring reminder that the guys are just down the hall and one of them could discover us any moment. That's the last thing I need to have happen right now.

I tear my mouth away from his with a gasp. "Jared...red light."

"I think we ran through the red a little while ago," he says, a little breathlessly as he releases me, and instantly my body feels bereft of his touch. "But...thank you."

I lean against the wall, mostly because I'm not sure my legs can hold me up on their own. "For what?" My voice is shaking as much as the rest of me is.

"For stopping me." He moves back a little as his eyes scan over me. "I don't think I would have otherwise. God, Lanie, you're so beautiful, and I just..." he sighs deeply, eyes dark with longing and regret. He runs a hand through his hair and gives me a rueful grin before glancing down at himself.  "Oh, fuck. I better...uh...settle this down before I get back to work. Are you going to hang out with us?"

"Of course," I say with a smile I hope is as light and casual as I'm trying to make it be. "That's what I came down here to do, right?"

"Right." He heads for a door nearby, which leads into a bathroom. His cheeks are slightly flushed.  "Um, I'll be there in a few."

 

***

 

Jared's right. The process of song-building is tedious, repetitive, frustrating, but, to me at least, fascinating. I listen as I hear Jared sing his heart out, those lips of his so very close to the microphone that I wish I was one. Shannon behind the drums is like a man possessed. Tomo and Stevie take turns on the keyboard, on the bass and lead guitars, and it all brings back the memories of long ago standing in the pit watching and listening to 30 Seconds to Mars in their formative years.

Frequently they stop and play back pieces on a computer system hooked up to a board with dozens of buttons and knobs and levers that might have been designed by NASA. I can't make out anything of what they're manipulating around on the screen, or the terms the guys use to describe what it is they're doing, but I still watch silently, still wholly absorbed by the process except when I take a few moments to call Jimmy to check on Shelby. Assured she's doing fine, enjoying hot dogs, burgers, chips and a game of Marco Polo in the pool with Tyrell, I go back to watching the band at work.

It's well into the evening by the time Shannon wipes sweat from his face and calls it a day. He has a date tonight, he explains, and endures some good-natured ribbing from the guys, especially from Jared. Apparently, Shannon hooked up with a fan after a concert in Seattle this past spring. One night turned into two, then three, and they're now becoming, unofficially at least, some kind of a thing, as Jared calls it. I can't help but wonder if Shannon passed this fan a guitar pick wrapped in a note, instructing her to give it to the big bald guy by the tour bus. Then I erase those thoughts after the guys leave and I help Jared up the stairs to the main floor. 

"I'm getting better at this," he acknowledges, grasping the railing with one hand, hopping carefully from one step to the next. "By the way,  I have an appointment at Cedars on Monday with Dr. Lange. He's going to take a look and see if I can graduate to an air cast yet." He looks hopeful at the prospect.

"I think you probably can," I reply. "You've been doing great with the exercises, and you've said the pain's gone back quite a bit."

"In my knee and leg, yeah. Not in my back, though." He sighs. "I guess maybe I'm just getting old."

I steal a glance at the man by my side. Old?  _Jared?_  Never. Even with the full beard concealing much of his model-perfect features, he looks half his age, if that. My mind drifts to the concert at the State Fair. He'd have been thirty-one then, but even up close, he looked no more than a disheveled, sweaty, and incredibly hot seventeen. Fourteen years have passed and other than his hair color and style and his beard, he's changed very little. When I look at myself in the mirror, I don't think I've changed all that much, either, but apparently I look nothing like I did at eighteen—Jared's never shown the slightest hint of recognition. Or else he's met so many people over the years since that one face has blended into another.

"What's up?" Jared asks me as we reach the first floor. I notice his voice is a little hoarse, probably from the hours he's just spent using it at full volume, and I glance at him. He's peering at me curiously.

"Huh?"

"You were a million miles away just now. You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

I blink. "Sorry. I guess I was just thinking about...uh, about back home. What did you say?"

Jared smiles, and there's gentle sympathy in it. "Yeah, I figured you were. I was asking if you enjoyed yourself today, and what you think of Flora."

"Oh. She's great. We had a good time, at least until..." I pause, and Jared looks at me curiously.

"Until..." he prompts.

"The spa thing. Why do women subject themselves to torture like that?"

Jared's brows knit together. "Torture? Oh, you mean waxing, right?"

"Yes!" I shudder. "It still hurts."

"Mmm," Jared nods. "You don't have to tell me. I had my entire body waxed. Head to toe, and all parts in between. And I mean  _all_  parts in between."

I stare at him. "Why did you do that?"

"For a role I played a few years ago. A transgender AIDS patient."

Oh yeah. Rayon.  _Dallas Buyer's Club._ The role that won him the Oscar. A film I've not yet seen, but have wanted to. "By the way," I say as we enter the living room, "where's your Academy Award? I'd think you'd have that displayed somewhere prominent, and I haven't seen it anywhere."

"The statue?" Jared looks thoughtful, and then he shrugs. "Shit, I don't know. In a box I haven't unpacked from the move, I suppose." He gives me a slanted grin. "I know. I'm supposed to be Mr. Organized, Mr. Efficency. But two years here and I've still not unpacked. Maybe next week we can get started on going through some of that stuff. It's probably mostly junk, but yeah, I guess we should find Oscar and give him a home somewhere around here." He sighs, looking around the living room, his eyes landing on his painting of El Capitan. "God, Lanie, I miss that place."

"El Capitan?"

"El Capitan, Yosemite, Oak Creek Canyon. The outdoors.  _Nature._  I sure hope Dr. Lange gives the go-ahead Monday and I can get that air cast."

"So do I." I slip my arm around Jared's waist.

In response, he rests his head on my shoulder, nuzzling my neck a little. "So...listen," he says hesitantly, softly. "I know what I've been saying. I know I've been trying to keep this thing between us platonic...well, in the technical sense platonic. What I don't know is how much longer I can keep doing that if we keep...pushing boundaries. If  _I_  keep pushing them like I did earlier."

I swallow hard, struggling for something to say. I settle for a whispered, "Yeah."

"I don't want to lose our connection as it is now, Lanie. I'm in a complicated place in my head, in my heart, in my life as a whole. Sex for me is...it's not like it is for most other people. With few, very few exceptions and all of them a long time ago, for me sex has nothing to do with emotions. I—I don't know how to explain it, or why it is." He pauses. "Maybe it's because I've seen too much, done too much, that I don't see the act of fucking as anything all that special between two people. I don't think the way maybe other guys do, definitely not the way most women do. I'll get horny, and given the opportunity I'll fuck to release it. Not all that different from masturbation, when it comes down to it. That's all it is to me, a bodily function like any other, and monogamy is a completely foreign concept to me personally. Meaning I've never dated anyone and  _not_  screwed around. But—"

Sighing, I say, "I get it. I mean, you're a famous rock star and actor. It's really not so unusual in your profession to indulge in no-strings, casual sex whenever you want."

Jared lifts his head and his eyes meet mine. There's a swirling mix of emotions in them. "That's true enough. But I find that I'm incapable of being casual with you, Lanie, and I don't know how to handle that." He lightly brushes my cheek with the back of his hand. "But I do know that it scares me to death."

"Me, too," I whisper, shivering all over at the way he's looking at me, so deeply, so intensely, like he can see right into my soul, and I recall Flora's words. Could Jared really be falling in love with me? Is that why he's so torn, so conflicted? Does love bring him not joy, but anguish?

Before I can say anything else, Jared nods. "Yeah," he says slowly. "I know. And since I'm getting around a lot better now, I think it's best for both of us that starting tonight, I begin sleeping in my own bedroom."


	20. Chapter Twenty

Shelby's nervous and excited for her first day of school, and I can't blame her. She was up well before dawn and it's taken her nearly an hour to decide what to wear. When she's finally dressed, she leaves the rejected clothing all over the floor. "Carmen or Ana will pick it up," she sniffs when I tell her to put her things back where they belong.

"Oh, no. That's not their job," I admonish her. "Just because we have housekeepers here doesn't give you an excuse to make a mess and then leave it for someone else to clean up."

Grumbling, Shelby does what she's told. When she's finished, I have her sit on the bed and I sit behind her. She's requested that I French braid her hair; a style I'm only marginally proficient at. Gamely, I part her hair and comb the sections out and begin the intricate process of weaving them into a neat braid. Several times I have to start over, though, because Shelby refuses to sit still despite my frequent reminders to.

"It's getting late," Shelby complains as I continue attempting to braid her hair. Smokey, the gray kitten, hops up on her bed and she begins playing with him. She suddenly reaches across the bed for a blue catnip-stuffed toy mouse and I lose a section of hair.

"Damn it, Shelby!" I fling the rest of her hair out of my hands and sigh, aggravated. "You know what? Forget the braid. Just brush it out and be done with it!"

"Geez,  _you're_  crabby," Shelby glares at me over her shoulder as she waggles the toy mouse by its tail and Smokey bats at it.

Well, yeah, I'm not in the greatest mood, and patience isn't my strong suit right now. Lack of sleep does it to me every time.

It's been three nights since Jared made his decision to no longer sleep in my bed, three long nights of lying awake and missing his presence, his warmth, the security and safety of his arms around me, of feeling his heartbeat under my cheek, his body pressed against mine, his soft kiss of my cheek or my forehead, his fingers playing with my hair and caressing my face. Not to mention the nights when things turned more heated, igniting my body into an inferno of unrealized need.

My bed's entirely too big now, and my heart's entirely too empty. And I'm no closer to fully understanding Jared and what happened to cause him to be the way he is than I was before his confession in the living room three nights ago.

By day, we get along fine. At least there's that. He's not being the jerk he was that day he yelled first at Carmen and then at me. There's a deliberate distance, a building of a wall between us that's only discernible because I'm hyper-aware of it. No one else seems to notice. Not Magda, not the guys, not Constance when she came by yesterday for lunch and to go shopping for last-minute school supplies, not Jimmy, and not Shelby. But for me, there's no mistaking the shift, the chasm Jared's been building between us.

I'm going with Jared to his appointment at Cedars while Shelby's at school. I'm confident that he'll get into an air cast, or perhaps even a functional brace. That'll allow him much greater mobility, though I've warned him that it's going to be painfully difficult walking at first. His knee and ankle will be severely weakened by being immobilized for two weeks.

"I'll be climbing again before you know it," he winked at me when I warned him the physical therapy is going to be long and at times grueling.

_Climbing? Oh, Jared...those days of dreaming about conquering The Nose of El Capitan are probably over for you. I just don't know how to tell you that without making you more determined to try it._

Shelby's looking in the mirror and running her brush through her hair. "I know!" she announces brightly, bringing me back to the present with a jolt. "I want a Katniss Everdeen braid." She turns to me. "Can you do  _that?"_

A Katniss Everdeen braid. Good grief. "Well, it'd be easier, since it doesn't have to be straight," I nod agreeably. "Come sit back down and I'll give it a try."

Shelby does, and within minutes her hair is braided diagonally across the back of her head, the dark blonde plait draping down and over one shoulder. "Well, hey. It looks great," I say with a tinge of pride. "At least it looks great considering it's the first time I've ever done it."

Shelby jumps up and looks in the mirror again, studying her hair from all sides. "Yeah, I like it," she says with a grin and shining dark eyes. "Thanks, Mom." She steps over to me and gives me a hug. "I hope you get over your crabbies, and I really hope Jared's doctor appointment goes good today."

"Me, too," I agree, hugging her back.

"Ladies," Jared's voice intones over the intercom. "It's almost time for Shelby to go."

Shelby grabs her pink Gucci hoodie and slips it on. I pick up her new black Prada backpack that cost such a ridiculous amount of money I was sure the price tag was a typo, and we leave the tower.

The school's easily walking distance, but Jimmy wants to drive us. Jared watches us prepare to leave, and his expression is a little sad. "What's the matter?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I wish I could go see her into school her first day." He gazes out the nearby window as Shelby runs outside to meet Tyrell, who's already out there waiting for her.

"Why can't you?"

"The pap," he answers with a sigh. "Not that there are a lot of them hanging around in The Hills on a Monday morning, but I don't want to risk it...you and Shelby getting caught in a photo, I mean."

"Oh," I nod. He has a point. "You look tired," I observe, stepping closer to him. His eyes are a little red, and there are dark shadows under them. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Okay enough, I guess." Jared eases into a chair where a steaming cup of tea is waiting for him at the table. At my dubious look, he shakes his head. "Okay, yeah. I had another nightmare," he says and then sips his tea. "It's no big deal."

Yes, given the nightmares that cause him to wake up screaming— the night before last I hurried to his room after hearing him cry out—I can certainly understand his fatigue. But this morning he also seems preoccupied, like something's weighing on his mind. Is it the appointment with Dr. Lange? Is he worried that his leg's not ready to move forward into an air cast? "You had another nightmare last night? I didn't hear a thing," I say.

He glances up at me. "Good. I'm glad I didn't wake you this time. Then at least one of us got a decent night's sleep." He glances outside again as Jimmy pulls up by the door. "There's your ride. I'll see you when you get back." He goes back to his tea.

It's a clear sign that I've been dismissed, and so I leave Jared at the table and head outside. He's definitely in a mood this morning, and I've learned the best thing I can do for him when he's like this is leave him be.

Shelby and Ty talk excitedly on the short ride to Canyon View Elementary. The school mailed us information and on it they indicated that Shelby has been placed in Mrs. Bryce's class as requested. "She's super-cool," Ty enthuses now. "She lets us play music on our phones while we're doing math as long as we use earbuds, and she's got a pet rat in her room!"

"I don't have a phone," Shelby tells him. "My dad never allowed me or my mom to have one."

"Yeah, you told me that. You're the only kid I know who doesn't have a phone. You should get one. We probably have an extra we can give you. Don't we, Dad?"

"Well, that's something that's up to Lanie, Ty, not me." Jimmy and I exchange a glance and I turn to look at my daughter.

"Is a phone something you really want, Shel?" I ask.

"Yeah," she says. Her eyes shine with hope. "Ty's right. Everyone's got one. Even Carmen and Ana have phones. Dad can't stop us from having one now, so why can't we?"

"I guess...it's not something I've thought about. I'll see what I can do," I promise as Jimmy pulls into the school parking lot and maneuvers his way amid other cars—luxury vehicles, most of them—that are also dropping children off. "Should I take her inside, you think?" I ask Jimmy.

"If you want, but it's really not necessary. All her paperwork's done. Ty can take her to the office to make sure she's set with her lunch number and locker, and then to her classroom," he says. "Right, Ty?"

"Yeah," Ty answers. "Come on, Shel." He opens his door and climbs out of the Pathfinder.

Shelby and I meet eyes. We've so seldom been separated by any distance further than the length of Jared's compound since Todd took her, and we both know it. A flutter of unease, of worry shoots through me.

"I'll be fine, Mom," she assures me, reading my thoughts clearly. "Geez. It's just school." She opens her door and gets out, staring at the crowd of kids outside the building, and despite her confident words to me, I know she's nervous, too.

I open my door, get out and I give her a hug. "Have a great day," I whisper. "I love you."

"Love you too. Bye!" She pulls away from me, gives me a wave, and then runs for the door with Tyrell. In no time, she's lost in the crowd of children, becoming one of them at long last.

 

***

 

Jared sits and listens with rapt attention as Dr. Lange explains the four-stage process in which broken bones knit themselves back together. Using illustrated graphs, he goes over each of the four stages in detail. Of course, I know all about the process thanks to my medical background, but Dr. Lange puts it in laymen's terms so Jared can understand it as well.

"Congratulations, Jared," Dr. Lange announces. "You're healing remarkably well, remarkably fast." He points at an X-ray mounted on a light panel. "See this right here? It's what's called hard callus formation. It indicates you've already reached the beginning of Stage Four—remodeling."

"So cut to the chase, Doc. Does this mean..." Jared looks at Dr. Lange hopefully.

"This means I believe we can skip the air cast and move you directly into a functional brace." He smiles at Jared's wide-eyed expression. "Honestly, I've never seen anything quite like it. A man of forty-five should take much longer to heal than you have."

"Wow," Jared says faintly. He looks at me, reaches out and takes my hand. It's our first real contact in days. He hasn't even requested his nightly back rub since we've begun sleeping separately, and I relish the electrifying tingle that always accompanies his touch. "You did it," he says softly, squeezing my hand.

"Me? How did  _I_ do it?" I shake my head. "It's a combination of a skilled surgeon and your crazy youthful genetics that did it. Thank Dr. Lange and your mother, not me."

"Actually, Lanie," Dr. Lange looks at me, "If you hadn't set his leg as well as you did, there could have been a number of complications that would have offset the healing process. And as you said earlier, you've been having him do physical therapy exercise since his discharge, isn't that so?" At my nod, Dr. Lange smiles. "Those have been very instrumental in facilitating the healing process. So, while a successful surgery and Jared's crazy youthful genetics, as you put it, are critical factors, without you his recovery would have been slower and potentially more difficult and painful."

I smile modestly, and Jared grins at me. "Told you."

"I must warn you, though, Jared. Once this cast comes off today you're going to have a bit of a struggle," Dr. Lange tells him. "Your knee and ankle will be stiff, inflexible, and weakened by immobility. Getting those back up to snuff will be a challenge and it's important that you continue some intense physical therapy but don't overdo it as I know you're prone to." He glances at me. "I think I can count on you to keep him in line."

"I'll do my best," I promise.

"Yes, I'm sure you will." Dr. Lange nods at the door. "So, are you ready, Jared?"

"Beyond ready," Jared tells him. "Let's go get this damned thing off me."

 

***

 

"Are you doing okay?" I ask anxiously as Jared takes his first few shuffling steps using both legs. We're leaving the Orthopedic wing of Cedars, and right now it seems like a very long way to the exit.

"It feels weird. Like it's someone else's leg and not mine," he answers, holding onto me for balance. "And really weak."

"It will be for awhile," I tell him as he gingerly puts a little more weight on his right leg. "You have to build up the muscle again and work on regaining your flexibility."

"I guess so." Jared looks grim. "Not that I expected to get the cast off and then run a fucking marathon or anything, but damn."

"Does it hurt at all?" I ask anxiously as he grimaces.

"Not exactly. Aches, kind of, but it's not bad. My back, though, shit!" He stops, turns, and looks at me suddenly. "I've missed your massages, Lanie. I really have."

 _Probably not as much as I've missed giving them,_  I reply silently. Before I can do or say anything, he pulls me into his arms. "More than the massages, I've missed  _you,"_  he murmurs in my ear.

"I'm there every day. How can you miss me?" I ask lightly, stroking his back. It feels so good to be held again, like it's been weeks and not days since we last stood like this.

"You know what I mean. I just wish..." a long sigh. "That things could be different."

 _Things could be different, if you'd let them be!_  I want to scream, but again, I say nothing. Jared glances down toward the exit, where a dark-haired man stands looking at his phone and paying us no attention. He tilts my chin up and gives me a soft kiss on the mouth, his beard tickling my skin deliciously and making me shiver.

He draws back a little and looks down at me, his eyes filled with a softness I haven't seen in days. He sighs and releases me. "Jimmy must be out there waiting. I guess we'd better go."

My lips tingle with the lingering effect of his kiss as we slowly make our way to the double-door exit. The dark-haired man barely glances up from his phone as we pass him. But looking outside, still holding onto Jared, I don't see Jimmy's blue Pathfinder anywhere. What I do see when I push the button to activate the automatic door and we step outside, is that each parking space along the street is full and as usual, the traffic on the street is at a near stand-still.. Several people are standing around on the sidewalk and some in between the parked cars, all busy with something. Phones, cameras slung over their necks, notepads in their hands.

Phones. Cameras. Notepads. I gasp, suddenly realizing, even as Jared stops and grips my arm tightly.

"Oh, shit," he mutters. "Get back inside."

It all happens in an instant. The paparazzi spring to attention and then we're surrounded by cameras and people, the sound of  _click-click-click_  and shouted questions volleying through the air filling my ears. Cold panic seizes me and I freeze.

"Get back inside! Now!" Jared orders. He jerks out of my supportive grasp and gives me a shove toward the doors behind us. 

But the move makes him lose his balance. I see the cameras aimed at Jared and at me. I see the man from the hallway, now outside and taking photographs as well. I see Jared pinwheel his arms, trying to stay upright. 

I gasp in horror. He's going to fall, and not one of these photographers and reporters will do a thing to stop it from happening. In fact, they'd probably love catching a shot like that. A million-dollar shot.

There's only one decision to be made here, and I make it. I've already been photographed a dozen or more times by now, anyway. I rush back to Jared and catch him before he can hit the pavement.

"Goddammit, Lanie," he hisses, and I can barely hear him over the questions from the dozen or more photographers and reporters, all shouting over each other. In the confusion of voices I can't make out much of what they're saying, but I do hear the name  _Katia Valkov_  a half dozen times, and at least one or two asking me to identify myself and what relationship I have with Jared.

"I told you to get inside for Christ's sake!" Jared snaps as I lead him around the dark-haired pap, giving the man a rude shove out of my way for good measure. From nowhere and a bit late, a uniformed hospital security guard arrives and lets us back in with a breathless apology. As we slip back inside, the guard blocks the entrance from the paparazzi trying to follow us.

"I wasn't going to let you fall and get hurt," I fire back tersely once we're safely back in the hospital corridor. "Where the fuck is Jimmy?"

"I don't know. I haven't heard from him." Jared reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone. He looks at it and utters a low curse. "And that's why. I forgot I shut my phone off when we got here." He points at a sign on the wall next to the No Smoking one, a sign showing a cell phone with a red circle and a diagonal line slashed through it. He powers his phone up and within seconds it pings. Jared opens the text and reads it. He smiles in grim amusement. "Yeah. He texted fifteen minutes ago, saying the pap are all over the place and to go to the service entrance like we did when I got discharged.  _Fuck!"_

"The service entrance is on the other side of the hospital," I remind him. "Jared, you can't walk that far so soon."

Jared's expression tightens again and his narrowed eyes lock on mine. "Yeah well, I don't have a choice unless you want to go scare up a wheelchair for me. Goddammit, they took your fucking  _picture,_ Lanie! They're  _still_ out theretaking your picture! They've got you on  _film._  Do you understand what that means?"

"I know they did, I know they are, and of  _course_ I know what it means. It means it's pointless to worry about it anymore. Text Jimmy back, have him come around to this door and pick us up."

Jared sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Lanie..." he looks out at the hovering pap, still trying to take shots of us standing in the hallway by the doors. "Even if your ex possibly seeing your picture and finding you wasn't a factor, I wouldn't want you to be subjected to this."

"To what?"

"To their intrusion. Their prying eyes, their questions. Their  _accusations."_

"Accusations?" I cock an eyebrow as Jared sighs again and taps something on his phone screen.  _"What_  accusations? About  _what?"_

"About me." He doesn't look up from his phone. "I don't give a shit what they say about me. I'm used to it. You wouldn't believe the stories out there, or I  _hope_  you wouldn't believe them. The bottom-feeders get off on anything salacious they can dig up or make up, and the less-than-reputable tabloid gossip sites have no concept of the word 'libel'. I've lived with this shit for years, Lanie. But you shouldn't have to get that kind of treatment, and it makes me sick knowing they'll say whatever they want and malign your character."

I look outside as the lone security guard is joined by others, and raised voices reach my ears as an argument between them and the paparazzi erupts. I scoff,  _"Malign_  my character? How? They don't know who I am, they don't know anything about me. What could they possibly say that would malign my character just from being seen leaving the hospital with you?"

"Anything they can come up with that'll go viral and sell ad space. It's not just that you're here with me. Any one of my assistants could be here with me and even those parasites out there know that. But if that sleaze who managed to get into the hospital took a picture of me holding and kissing you, they'll probably go with something about you moving in on Katia Valkov's territory while she's out of town on a shoot."

"Katia Valkov's territory? Is that what you are?  _Territory?"_

Jared's smile is bitter. "That's right. At least according to what she wants the press to believe, and they believe it, all right."

I stare at him. "But—"

The bitterness in his smile reaches his crystal-blue eyes and darkens them. "Remember what I told you, Lanie. I don't belong to me."


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

The scream pierces through the dark stillness of night, jolting me from sleep. By the time it comes again I'm out of bed and racing down the hall to Jared's room, my heart pounding frantically in my chest. It's the worst one yet. I know it is, because he's not just screaming—he's screaming words, and a name.

 _My_  name.

"Jared," I gasp as I hurry into his room and to his side. He's curled up in a tight ball, his body uncontrollably trembling. "Jared, it's okay. I'm here. It was just a dream," I whisper as I gather him in my arms as I've done so many times before, even after he moved out of my room and into his. "Just a dream," I repeat soothingly as he grabs onto me, gasping and crying my name.

"I saw faces—I saw  _his_  face!" Jared's shaking all over. "Oh, God, Lanie...make this fucking stop,  _please!"_

"Whose face?" I pull him tightly to me. "Jared, whose face did you see? Who is he?"

"I don't know," he chokes out in between gasping sobs. "A man with dark hair. He had a gun and....he shot...over and over...people...so many people...screaming...God, make it fucking  _stop!"_

Helplessly I hold him, his head against my breast. "I don't know how to make it stop," I whisper, close to tears myself.

We sit this way for an unknown time, as slowly he begins to calm down. Then at last, Jared takes a long quivering breath. "Don't leave me, Lanie. Stay in here with me. I need you to stay in here with me. I can't go back to sleep knowing I'll go there again. Not alone."

We'll be squished together—no avoiding it, since Jared's mattress is a twin—but there's no way I'm going to leave him like this. I lay down beside him and all at once it's just like it has always been. We hold one another, his red-rimmed, haunted eyes inches from my own. It's only when his arm around me shifts and travels over my side, my hip and to my bare leg do I remember that I'm wearing nothing but a thin tank top and miniscule— _very_  miniscule—panties. In my haste to get to Jared I didn't stop to put any more clothes on.

Jared's throat works and his eyes lose some of their haunted quality. Something else replaces it. Something burning and barely contained. "But Lanie," he whispers, "laying this close together—if you don't go and put on something more substantial than this, I really don't think it's fair that I be held responsible for my actions."

I say nothing, but I don't make a move to get back up, either. Instead, I hold his gaze steadily. I'm so done with this...whatever this is that Jared's been doing for weeks now. If making love with the man I adore is crossing the line, then so be it. I'll take the consequences, whatever they are, but I can't do this again. Not one more night.

Jared's expression darkens a little. "This will change everything between us, Lanie. It'll open up so many avenues to pain and misery for you. Is that something you're willing to risk, for moments of physical pleasure?"

When I just continue holding his gaze silently, Jared curses under his breath. His hand leaves my hip and travels slowly up until he's touching my face for a moment, and then down to cup my breast. I close my eyes as his thumb brushes my nipple and I shiver.

"Stop me." There's as much pleading as there is command in those two words. When I say nothing, his hand leaves my breast and travels lower, across my quivering belly, and touches me between my legs.

"Lanie...please  _stop_  me." His fingers press against my sensitive flesh and I gasp, finally speaking just one word.

"No."

Jared growls and his other hand grasps my hair, hard. My eyes fly open and meet his almost angry glare, so fierce, so hungry. "You don't understand that I'll hurt you. I'll break your heart, damn it." Even as he speaks he grasps the waistband of my panties and with a hard jerk, tears them off me with a sharp rip of the fragile material. And for a moment there, I  _am_ afraid. Genuinely scared. This is a side of Jared I've not seen before, and I don't know how to handle it, or if I even can.

But somehow, I find words. Softly, gently, I say, "Sometimes we have to take risks to remind ourselves why we're still alive."

Jared stops and stares down at me, a touch of a smile appearing on his lips. "I've lived my life by that very principle. But before we do this— _if_ we do this, answer me one thing, Lanie. And you have to be completely truthful."

"Okay," I breathe, my heart hammering painfully in my chest.

"Are you in love with me?"

Oh, God. There it is. Just like that. I stare wordlessly at him.

"I mean with  _me._  Jared Leto, the flesh and blood man I am. Not Jared Leto the actor. Not Jared Leto the rock star. Not Jared Leto who owns the biggest house in The Hills and has a net worth of forty million or whatever it is now. I mean  _Jared Leto_ , the guy whose ass you've wiped. Jared Leto, the man with horrible nightmares you give him comfort from, the man whose tears you've dried. Jared Leto, who sleeps on a twin mattress on the floor. Jared Leto, the fucked-up mess you found in Oak Creek Canyon. Are you in love with  _that_ guy, the  _real_ me, or...? _"_

I swallow hard and stare up at him. I can't lie. Not about this. Not if my life depended on it, no matter what his reaction to my answer is, and with Jared, it could be anything. "Yes," I confess. "I'm in love with you, Jared. The  _real_ you."

His eyes darken and he stares down at me for a long moment without speaking. His eyes suddenly squint closed and his jaw clenches before he speaks again."That's a problem. Because you're opening yourself up to a lot of pain in the very near future."

I understand his meaning all too well. "Katia...you're going to do it. You're going to start seeing her again."

Jared looks away. "I don't know. It appears I may have little choice in the matter." He turns to me again. "And so, Lanie, if we do this...if we take this step tonight, there's no going back from it, and I want you to be prepared for what's to come. I want to know you're strong enough to handle it. I need to know you're thinking about this clearly, and not just responding to what your body wants. I especially need you to remember that sex for you and sex for me don't mean the same thing."

I get what he's saying perfectly. That making love won't bond him to me the way it'll bond me to him. That Jared will still do whatever it is that Jared does or has to do, and most of all, Jared is absolutely not in love with me. Am I strong enough to handle that?

I have to be.

And so I will be.

I give him my answer by curling my hand around his neck and drawing him down to kiss me.

When he breaks the kiss and pulls back, naked desire is etched in his face, burning in his eyes. He runs a finger over my cheek and across my lips. "You're so beautiful, so wise, so brave and yet so foolish. I don't deserve you." His fingers find the hem of my tank top then, and begin tugging it up, over my ribs and breasts. "Raise up," he commands softly.

I do, and he pulls the thin garment over my head. I raise my arms and he slides it the rest of the way off. I begin to lower my arms again and he stops me. "No. Keep your hands like they were."

I lay back, keeping my arms raised over my head, crossed at the wrists. Jared's eyes gleam as he looks at them and grasps them both in one hand, pinning them to the pillow. "One day," he murmurs, his lips skimming over my neck, "I'd love to tie your wrists just like this."

I close my eyes, trembling at his words, at the delicate burn of his lips and tongue as they trace a path from my neck to my chest. I can barely breathe, can barely believe this is even happening. It's beautiful. It's terrifying. It's absolute heaven.

"Jared..." his name comes out as a moan. His lips and tongue are on my breasts, teasing each nipple in turn, while his free hand slips between my legs which part like water for him. "Oh, my God—" my words are now a gasp.

"You're so wet already...Jesus...." he withdraws his hand and he moves around a little. I realize what he's doing. He's taking off his boxers. Soon, we'll be flesh to flesh completely. My head spins with dizziness and anticipation. His mouth finds mine again, his tongue invading with unleashed fury, his breath coming hard and fast against my face.

He suddenly releases my wrists from his firm hold. "Touch me, Lanie," he whispers, and guides my hand to his firmly erect cock.

_Oh. My. God._

Having only ever slept with Todd I have no frame of reference, but even I realize how incredibly...gifted...Jared is. A shiver of apprehension ripples through me even as he closes his eyes and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth at my touch.

"Oh, Lanie..." he sighs as I stroke his length. He shivers and then thrusts against my hand. Almost immediately, the head of his cock is wet and slick, and I barely control the insane urge to stop, slide down, and taste it on my tongue. Insane, because I've always hated giving blowjobs, and Todd said I'm not very good at it anyway. The last thing I'd want to do is reveal that incompetence to Jared, who's certainly gotten plenty of head from plenty of talented women.

"I need—" he gasps—"a condom."

"Do you have one?" I whisper.

"Yeah. Just a sec." Jared rolls over and reaches for the stand next to him. Fumbling around for a moment, he comes up with a plastic packet. He tears it open with his teeth, his eyes never leaving mine. "One more time. You're sure you want to do this? No second thoughts?" he murmurs.

"If I had second thoughts, what would you do?" I counter softly.

A pained smile crosses his lips as he glances down at himself, and then he sighs. "The truth? I'd do the same thing I've been doing for weeks. I'd jack off thinking about you, about your gorgeous body under mine, those long legs of yours wrapped around me, about my cock buried deep inside you, and how I'd make you come over and over."

"No second thoughts," I say shakily, as his words alone, the way he says them, and the way his crystal blue eyes burn into mine as he speaks are almost enough to get me there.

Jared rolls the condom on with a wince. "Not that I'm bragging or anything, but even the extra large ones are—" he grimaces.

"Are you okay?" I murmur.

"Yeah. I'm used to it. It really doesn't detract from...you know. The enjoyment." He pulls me into his arms again. "Lanie," he breathes against my fevered skin as he shifts his body on top of mine, his good knee nudging mine apart. His mouth descends on mine even as his hands tug mine so that they're once again over my head and pinned by his. Between my legs I feel the very beginning of his entry. Against his lips I moan, and of their own volition, my hips rise to accept him.

Breaking the kiss, Jared whispers, "Don't be afraid to tell me if I hurt you." His hips press forward a little and his cock begins its long, slow entry into me. It's a sensation unlike anything I've ever known before. Not only is Jared larger than Todd—much,  _much_ larger—but also the way he's taking his time, going so slowly to allow me to adjust to both his length and incredible girth. By contrast Todd, even when he took my virginity on that trip to St. Paul, did it with a hard and fast shove. His technique never changed after that, and I just assumed that's how it's supposed to be done.

_Stop thinking of Todd. This is Jared making love to you!_

No. He's not making love to me. He's having sex with me.

A sudden tear rolls from the corner of my eye and Jared stops immediately, releasing my wrists again. "Lanie? I told you if I hurt you, to tell me. Do you want me to stop?"

"You're not hurting me," I lie. Sort of lie. Physically I've never felt so incredible, so alive, so womanly and so beautiful. Emotionally I'm mind-fucking myself into misery and I have to stop it. Right now. I smile up at his worried, dark eyes. "You feel so good, and don't you  _dare_  stop." To prove it, I pull his face down to mine, kissing him with fervor, and I arch my hips against him. With my other hand I press him down and against me until his cock is buried as far inside me as it can go.

"Oh, my God," he breathes against my lips. His hips begin to move and with each thrust I'm filled more and more, sent higher and higher. "Lanie...it's like your body's been made for me...and you're so tight and...oh...I can't..." he moves faster, harder, his breath hissing between clenched teeth as he rears back, his eyes fixed on mine. "I'm going to....his words dissolve in a gasp and a sharp cry as he thrusts deep and hard one last time, holding himself rigidly against me. Deep inside me, I can feel it—his cock pulses and throbs, and it goes on for longer than I ever thought a man's orgasm can go. His taut body quivers, and a thin sheen of sweat covers his face and chest.

"Oh, shit, Lanie. I'm so sorry," he sighs when he collapses on me again, trembling, sweating, and panting. "I couldn't—I've usually got a lot better control. Especially with a condom, I can go a long time." He raises his head and his eyes meet mine. His smile is shame-faced. "I went off like a teenage kid. First time that's happened in longer than I care to remember."

"It's okay," I say sincerely because right now I feel like I'd have to look down to see Heaven. Knowing I gave Jared a mind-melting orgasm, even a quick one, is more than enough for me. "I know it's been awhile."

He shakes his head and caresses my cheek. "No, sweetie, it's  _not_  okay. That time was for me. Give me a few minutes, and then this time will be for you." He pulls me to him and his kiss is just as full of passionate need, just as hungry as before—telling me that  _this time_  is already happening.

Jared's recuperative ability is as amazing as everything else about him. Very quickly his hardness is pressed against me, but he hasn't yet put a condom on again. I stroke his long, thick shaft, feeling the pearl of wetness form, and this time I don't hesitate. I begin kissing my way down his body, feeling the muscles of his chest and then his abdomen ripple under my lips.

"Lanie," he groans, burying the fingers of both hands in my hair and twisting them. "This is supposed to be for you."

"Yes. It is," I whisper. "And I want to taste you." With that I snake my tongue out and give the large, velvety head of his cock a swirling lick. He gasps and I moan my own pleasure. He tastes delightful—so sweet. I wonder if his vegan diet has anything to do with it, but my thoughts won't settle enough to ponder the notion further.

Jared's cock is far too much for what I wish I could do—swallow it like I saw in a porn way back when Todd and I were dating—he made me watch it saying I might learn something—but I spend several long moments stroking him, licking and teasing enough to make Jared moan and sigh and beg me to stop. "I'll be done again before we even get started," he growls, tugging at my hair until I'm laying beside him again.

"My little witch," he whispers, his eyes burning hungrily. "Now lay back and enjoy this." With that, his fingers delve between my legs, parting me. I open my thighs and he slips two fingers inside me. Working them smoothly in and out, his thumb brushes against my sensitive nub and a sharp cry escapes my lips, a cry Jared silences with his mouth on mine. His tongue darts in and out, stroking mine with the same rhythm as his fingers inside me and I shudder, feeling the build beginning, so soon,  _too_  soon.

"No, love, not like that," Jared draws back and whispers raggedly. "I want to feel you come with my cock." Quickly he retrieves another condom from the drawer, tears the packet open and rolls it on. Then he's on top of me again, and this time he doesn't hesitate. He slides into me with one long, fluid thrust.

At his galvanizing entry, the very walls seem to shake. I hook my legs around his thighs and my hands bury themselves in his hair. Our mouths fuse together and he captures each cry he pulls forth from me as he drives himself home, over and over again.

A hot thunderbolt of pleasure is building in me, in every nerve, every cell. It climbs higher with every second as Jared rocks inside me, arching back so his eyes meet mine.

"Look at me, Lanie," he hisses breathlessly. "I want you looking at me when you come. I want to see in your eyes everything you're feeling."

I look up at him. Jared's hair falls in a dark curtain around his face, but his eyes are glowing, fixed on mine, pleading, demanding. He doesn't break his rhythm at all, but he pushes a little harder, the breath whooshing from him with every thrust. His brows knit together, his teeth bare a little, and he growls, a primal, animalistic sound. "Come for me, Lanie," he commands. "Come for me— now!" His hand grasps my hair and twists, hard.

And that's when it happens, the catalyst that drives me over the edge, releasing the thunderbolt that shoots through me. I cry his name as the most incredible climax of my life explodes through my body, through my mind. I hit the throbbing peak hard and I stay there...because Jared doesn't stop. He keeps going, thrusting harder, deeper and faster. I feel the tide just start to ebb, and then I'm shooting heavenward again, even higher than before. His name tears from me again, and this time it's not a cry. This time it's a scream.

Once again, Jared's body tenses like a drawn bow and his cry joins my own, and his blazing eyes never leave mine through every hot, throbbing second.

Later, we lay naked and entwined, knowing whatever sleep we got before Jared's nightmare sent me in here is probably all we're going to get for the night. We lay together, listening through the open window at the night birds and insects, at the barking of a neighbor's dog, and the hum of traffic in the distance. Everything seems the same, and yet nothing is the same. 

He said things would change. He wasn't wrong. If I loved Jared before, I'm only all the more totally and irrevocably in love with him now. Making love with him was a deal-sealer, and I'll never be the same. I'll never see _him_  the same.

Jared hand strokes my hair, twirling strands around his fingers. "Any regrets?" he whispers, so quietly the words might be in my imagination. It's close enough to my thoughts that it could be, but I know it's not. It's just his uncanny ability to know what I'm thinking.

"No." I snuggle closer, but I can't help wondering if he does. Do I ask? Do I want to hear his answer?

"I regret one thing," he murmurs, as if answering my unspoken question. "That I held myself back from you this long."

"You had your reasons," I respond.

"Yeah, well. Suddenly they don't seem all that important. Suddenly, they don't even make sense anymore."

I raise up on an elbow and look down at him. He returns my gaze, his eyes calm and without any guile whatsoever. "Really?"

"Yeah," he says, and reaches up to brush a lock of hair from my cheek. "I've had sex with a lot of women. A  _lot_ of women. But this was different, and I should've known it would be, because  _you're_  different, Lanie, and you're making me see things differently. Maybe I did know it deep down, and that's what scared me so much."

My heart races, and I can barely speak. "What things do you see differently?"

"Love. Sex. The possibility of them co-existing." He smiles and with no hesitation whatsoever, he says, "I held myself from this because I'm in love with you too, Lanie."

My head spins. "You're..." further words aren't forthcoming. I can't speak. I can only look down at his beautiful face, absorbing his words that I can only half-believe I'm hearing.

"Yeah. I am," he says softly. "I've worked years to build defenses against falling in love until I didn't think it was possible to feel like this ever again. But just like that, you've torn all those defenses apart. It's a weakness, a vulnerability that scares the hell out of me, to be honest."

"Jared...I would never hurt you," I whisper. "Not deliberately."

"No. But I promise I'll hurt you," he murmurs, and sudden tears well in his eyes. 

 

 


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Flora fidgets impatiently as I study two display model cellphones the clerk has set on the glass counter for me to look over, and I mutter, "I don't know which one is the better one."

This launches the clerk into an enthusiastic sales pitch for each, detailing specs about the phones that fly completely over my head, though Flora of course understands all the lingo perfectly. I feel ridiculously inept and stupid as Flora takes over the conversation and the clerk devotes his attention to her, even though I'm the one dishing out what Jared calls my hard-earned money to purchase the devices.

Hard-earned indeed. Other than the first few days after Jared's release from the hospital when he needed the most hands-on assistance, I wouldn't call my job difficult.

Behind us, two men appearing to be unobtrusive wait by the exit. My bodyguards.  _I have bodyguards,_  I think with a touch of surreal amusement. Not all the time—that would drive me insane, though they're nice enough, I guess—but when I'm going out into a crowded and very public place, David and Gene are with me. Jimmy focuses primarily on the residence, while the two new security personnel go with Jared and I whenever we leave the compound.

"The iPhone X," I announce, interrupting the clerk's sales pitch. "Two of them, please."

The clerk smiles broadly, and it's then that I figure out he works on commission. Quickly I choose the colors, sticking with plain white for me and rose gold for Shelby. The clerk fetches the phones, cases and extras to go with them. He begins to ring everything up and I'm cringing all the while. Good God, they're just phones, and I'm shelling out what once was nearly a month's pay.

David and Gene flank us as we leave the store. "I knew you'd go for the iPhone," Flora says. "Jared can help you guys figure out all the stuff on them. I'm an Android girl, so I'm not super familiar with the iOS."

I shoot Flora a sideways glance. "Like I'm supposed to know what that means."

"Never mind," Flora grins. She spots a Starbucks near the mall food court. "Do you have to be back anytime soon?"

"Not really. Jared's in the studio with the guys, and then some people are coming by to go over a contract or something." We approach the Starbucks counter and I add, "Then I guess Danica and Carrie are back from their vacations and he has some stuff to go over with them, too."

"Your boy wants to get himself back in the game," Flora nods. "I knew he would as soon as he got the cast off. He's going to be running himself ragged trying to make up for the down time. Has he committed to anything for Awards Season yet? It's coming up in just a few weeks."

I shrug. "He hasn't said anything about that. What exactly is 'Awards Season', anyway? I keep hearing about it."

Flora glances at me. "Music awards, film awards. You know, the EMA's, MTV Music Awards, Golden Globes, SAGs, Academy Awards, Grammys. A lot of networking happens, a lot of deals are born at the awards shows. But they're also an excuse to get dressed up in the finest of Armani, Balmain, Gucci, to parade down the red carpet and be seen..." her voice trails off as we reach the counter. "A small vanilla latte, please," she tells the barista. "You want anything?" she asks me.

"A small mocha," I answer, and then I add, "No whip. Almond milk, please."

Flora raises an eyebrow. "You've embraced the vegan life?"

I grin. "It's kind of grown on me." In truth, I haven't eaten any meat, nor dairy nor eggs, since my lunch with Flora at the beginning of October. Almost a month. And I don't miss it at all. In fact, I now get a little nauseated at the smell of cooking meat when Jimmy does his weekly barbecues out by the pool.

Once we're seated, with David and Gene at a nearby table with their own coffees and keeping a watchful eye on our surroundings, Flora leans forward and grins conspiratorially. "Okay, Lanie," she says, "Out with it. It's been almost a month since we had lunch. What's happening with you and Jared? And don't tell me nothing. I know better."

I study my cup and take a long, quivering breath that ends with a shrug. "You were right. He's in love with me."

Flora's grin is huge, but as she studies me, it begins to falter. "So then...what's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that he doesn't  _want_  to be in love with me." I gaze across the food court at nothing in particular. "There's no happiness in it for him. It's like this—this  _burden_  or something, and he won't discuss it."

Flora's hand covers mine. "Listen, Lanie. Jared is—he's probably afraid you can't deal with the kind of life he lives. He's a celebrity, getting pulled every which way and living twenty-four-seven in a fishbowl. It isn't easy to maintain a relationship when you're a public figure, especially not a guy like Jared with...well, with his reputation, and things he feels he has to...commit to. I imagine he's afraid he'll screw it up and he'll lose you."

I look straight back at her. "That makes two of us," I say softly. "He's been with an awful lot of beautiful women. Rich, famous, successful women. I keep asking myself why me? Is it love borne from gratitude, or is it  _real_  love?"

Flora sighs. "I don't know if this helps or not, but you're not alone in how you feel."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. There's this actor I know who fell in love with a waitress from Ohio, and in the beginning she felt the exact same way as you do right now. I think Chris was worried about Emily handling his lifestyle, too. But they got through it and they're doing great. Still together—in fact, they recently got married—and still crazy in love." She smiles gently. "Jared's a different breed than Chris, but I'm certain his love is just as much the real thing. He needs to let go of the fear and just  _be._ I think with your help, he will get there."

 

***

 

As I let myself in the front door, a skinny girl with short-cropped black hair strides into the foyer from the direction of the hall that leads to the bedrooms and the tower. She has startling green eyes, sharp features, whiter-than-white skin which is on display with the crop top and very low-slung skinny jeans she's wearing. A sparkling jewel in her belly button ring catches the afternoon light beaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows as she comes toward me. "Can I help you?" she demands, squinting at me.

I blink several times. "I could ask you the same question."

"If you're the new housekeeper, the servants' entrance is in the back," the girl informs me.

 _New housekeeper?_ I clutch the bag containing the cell phones. Jared never said anything about hiring a new housekeeper. Did he let Ana or Carmen go for some reason? What's going on here, and who is this woman? Not a woman, but a  _girl._  She looks like she's barely out of her teens. "My name is Lanie, and I'm—"

The girl's eyes widen. "You're  _Lanie?"_  She steps closer, shielding her eyes from the sun glaring in through the window beside me. "Oh, my God. I'm so sorry. I'm Carrie Walsh, one of the assistants. With this sun glare and these new contacts I just got, I couldn't see you very well, and I didn't recognize you at first."

"It's okay," I mumble and shake the girl's offered hand. "But why would you recognize me at all? We've never met."

Carrie tilts her head to the side. "Are you not aware of the pap photos of you and Jared all over the tabloids and social media?" When I don't answer, she says, "Oh, God. You're not!" She reaches into her back pocket—how she does it, as tight as her pants are, I'm not sure—and produces her phone. I set my bag down on the dining room table and look over Carrie's shoulder as she pulls up a website. The headline catches my eye instantly.

_**Oh, Noez! Jared Leto Caught Cheating on Katia Valkov!** _

Below it is a photo taken by the pap in the hospital hallway, catching Jared and I in that kiss. My face isn't clear in that one, but there's no mistaking Jared. "Shit," I murmur. Carrie scrolls down and there are more photos of us leaving the hospital, just before Jared pushed me back to the doors. Still more of us getting in Jimmy's Pathfinder once he came around to get us.

My face is clearly visible in all of those, and with no makeup and my hair in a casual ponytail, I look like I always have. If Todd sees these somehow, there's no way he won't recognize me.

I notice there's writing under all of the photos. "What's it say?" I murmur.

"Read it," Carrie says, and hands me her phone.

I swallow hard and read the short article.

_For weeks after shattering his leg in a rock-climbing accident last month, Oscar-winning actor and 30 Seconds to Mars frontman Jared Leto has been in seclusion, but clearly the injury hasn't slowed down his playboy ways!_

_While devoted girlfriend Katia Valkov is in New York on a modeling assignment, our man caught Jared leaving Cedars-Sinai Hospital in Los Angeles without crutches—and accompanied by a new gal pal, with whom Jared seems quite taken by as the pair were caught locking lips before leaving the hospital together._

_Both camps have declined comment, but this steamy PDA leaves us to speculate about the future of Jared and Katia's relationship. Stay tuned for more dirty deets as we get them!_

"It's all over the place," Carrie informs me, sliding her phone back in her pocket.

"Shit," I whisper again. It's so surreal to see my face splashed across a webpage that I can barely wrap my head around it. Jared surely knows, and I wonder how he feels about it.

"Yeah," Carrie says, fixing me with a look. "Katia's on her way back to L.A. right now. If I were you, Lanie, I'd prepare myself. The shit you speak of is about to hit the fan."

 

***

 

After Shelby and Tyrell get home from school, I spend the rest of the afternoon with them at the pool. How strange that so close to Halloween as we are, the temperature is in the upper eighties. Shelby absolutely loves this weather, and so do I.

I put on the black bikini I picked up when I went shopping with Flora, but my mind's not really on the beautiful weather or swimming. My mind is on the article Carrie showed me, and her words of warning.

Katia's on her way back to L.A. Undoubtedly, she'll show up here. And Jared will....what? I have to believe he will he tell her to fuck off, that he has no intention of playing along in this fake relationship anymore. Yes, he said he may not have a choice, but  _everyone_  has a choice. Katia and her father can't  _force_  him to be seen in public with her like she's his girlfriend, no matter what lies she feeds the media. Can they?

I join Shelby and Ty, already splashing around in the pool. I lay on a lounge under a huge umbrella, careful to stay out of the sun. I've been trying like hell to lose my tan and I think it's faded a little, but not enough. I'll never have that pure milky-white skin that's so appealing these days and I know it. Funny how a few years ago people did all they could, paying good money at salons for year-round tans like mine, and now being pasty-white is the look everyone strives for.

A car starting up echoes from the front of the house; either Carrie or the people Jared's been in a meeting with are leaving. I close my eyes and try to relax. I haven't seen him yet since I got home from the mall, and I really want to spend some quality time with him. Not just so he can teach me all the mysterious workings of my new phone, either.

Since the first night we made love, our relationship has taken on a different, heightened quality. He moved back into my bedroom. He doesn't hold back physically any longer _—_ we've made love every night since. But at the same time, he's changed. There's warmth and love when he looks at me, but there's pain as well. Pain that I wish I could take away from him, pain that I wish I could understand. I want to talk, to grow closer emotionally as well as physically. I want to know  _him._

All of him. The bad with the good. _All_  of him.

A shadow crosses in front of me, and at the same time a two-child chorus of "Jared!" chimes out. I open my eyes and look up at Jared gazing down at me.

"Hi," I say, sitting up. I look him over. He's wearing swim trunks with a brightly colored Hawaiian floral print. "You're going  _swimming?_  But I thought _—"_ I gesture at the house. "I thought you'd be busy the rest of the day. And you turned me down last night when I asked if you wanted to join us out here today."

Jared sits on the edge of the lounge chair next to me and bends to remove his leg brace. "Yeah, but you also said swimming would be great exercise. Just as effective and less painful than the range-of-motion stuff you've got me doing in the gym. You said it'd be fun, and that I could use some fun."

"And I'm right. But what about work?"

"I delegated all of today's legal crap to Carrie, to take to Danica at the Wilshire office. She's the pro at contract law. I made the changes I wanted to make during the meeting, everyone's in agreement, and Danica can write up the revised contract for everyone to look over."

"What's it for?" I ask.

"A movie," Jared answers, holding his hand out to me. I take it and we both stand.

"Are you swimming with us, Jared?" Shelby cries. She swims to the edge of the pool and looks up at us. "You and Mom?"

"In a sec, kiddo," Jared tells her. To me he says, "This past summer I was offered a really interesting role, and after some time to think about it and now with my schedule getting cleared up, I've decided to take it. The producer, director, and casting director were just here. We were discussing the role, and using MARS's music in the film."

"Yeah?" I smile at the way his eyes shine. "What is this film about?"

"It  _was_  called  _Devil's Playground,_ but we're discussing a title change. It's a crime thriller," he answers. "A really atmospheric indie film, just the kind I like to sink my teeth into."

"What's your role?" I ask as he pulls me into his arms and drops a soft, gentle kiss on my forehead. "The lead?"

"No. The villain," he answers, his lips still touching my skin. "He's a psychopath. A sexual deviant who also happens to be a serial killer."

I pull back a little and stare up at him. "You? A  _serial killer?"_

"Uh-huh. Me. A serial killer. And don't forget the sexual deviant part."

"Oh, God. With your method acting, how far down the rabbit hole are you going to go to prepare for this?"

Jared laughs an evil cackle. "I guess we'll find out, won't we?" Then he turns, still holding me, still grinning, and gives me a push into the pool.

I hit the water with a scream. When I come to the surface, Jared's looking down at me and laughing. Shelby and Ty are giggling, and I glare up at him. "I can't believe you did that!" I sputter indignantly, but I'm far from angry. The water feels great, and I love seeing Jared's face lit up with laughter. I wish I could do the same to him, but I'm not going to risk him getting hurt.

And anyway, in seconds Jared's in the water, too. We play with the kids, splash, and before I know it the sun has disappeared from the sky and none of us have had dinner yet.

"You were right," Jared says as I fetch towels from the pool room for us. He takes one and rubs his hair vigorously. "That felt amazing. Let's swim again after Shelby goes to bed." He gives me a grin, and the gleam in his eyes is unmistakable. When I don't answer him right away, he continues, "Unless you don't want to."

"I do, it's just..." I pause. "Jared, there are things we need to talk about and I was hoping we could talk about them tonight."

Jared frowns. "What things?"

I wrap my towel around myself. "Things happening that I'm pretty sure we're both well aware of, but we're not discussing. We're going out of our way to  _not_  discuss them, in fact."

"What things are those?" Jared asks as we head toward the patio door leading to my bedroom. He slips his arm around my waist as we walk.

 _Does he need me to say it? Really?_ "Katia Valkov, for one," I mutter.

In an instant, Jared's arm is rigid, and then he drops it from my waist. "I'd prefer not to discuss her with you." His tone is clipped and cold.

I stare at him as I open my patio door. "Why not?"

"Because she has nothing to do with us, Lanie." He follows me into the room.

"She's going to be here very soon," I tell him. "I think we'd better talk about her before that happens, don't you?"

Jared looks at me quickly. "How do  _you_  know that she's going to be here?"

A long moment passes as we stare at each other. "You know it, too. You know she's coming here. Right?" I say, my voice tight.

Jared closes his eyes and rubs the spot between his brows. "Lanie _—_ I wish I _—_ okay. Yes, I know she's coming. I know  _why_  she's coming. The pap pictures have gone viral, and she's livid about it. She'll be here at eleven tomorrow morning."

"Do...do you want me to _—_ what _—disappear_ so you can have privacy?" I hate the jealous twinge in my voice, but I am unable to stop it. "I mean, I'm sure David and Gene will be available, I'll just drag them back to the mall. Just let me know how much time you need so I won't come back too early and end up interrupting someth _—_ "

"Stop it, Lanie." Jared's voice is a growl. "I'm  _not_  fucking her. I'm simply meeting with her. I really resent what you're implying."

I sigh and turn away, digging a change of clothes from my dresser. "Okay. I'm sorry. But until you open up about what's really going on, and what this woman has over you that makes you believe you have no choice but to carry on this phony public relationship crap with her, I'm gonna end up drawing my own conclusions." I turn around and Jared's leaning against the bathroom doorway, arms folded, messy damp hair framing his perfect features, unblinking eyes boring right through me. "And that's not fair to either of us."

"You're right," he says softly. "It's not fair, Lanie. I told you falling in love with me opens you to pain. I promised you I'd hurt you." His throat works. "I wish to God that was a promise I could find a way to break."

Dinner that night is quiet, with the exception of Shelby, who unknowingly plays as a buffer between Jared and me as she chatters on about school and about her new phone _—_ which, of course, she's already figured out. She's adjusting remarkably well to school in Los Angeles, and has made more friends besides Ty. "Mylloni Abram said you threw a huge Halloween party here once and all your neighbors got pissed," she tells Jared halfway through dinner, her eyes shining with excitement. "Can you do it again this year? I mean, except the pissed neighbors part."

Jared laughs softly. "I think we'll skip the party this year, kiddo. If you want to invite a few friends to hang in the tower and have a slumber party or something, I have no problem with that, but I think my big blowout party days are over." He glances at me. "What do you think, Lanie?"

"A sleepover? Sure," I answer, and tell Shelby,"Let me know a few days ahead of time so I can stock up on the snacks and stuff, and Carmen and Ana can help me get spare beds ready." This reminds me, and I turn to Jared. "Are you getting a new housekeeper?"

He glances at me. "As a favor to Ana, yeah, I'm hiring Ella, her youngest sister. Apparently she just arrived in L.A. and desperately needs a job. Magda and I agreed to bring her on, just on a trial basis after she passes her background check. Why?"

"Carrie thought I was the new housekeeper when I came home today."

Jared grins. "She did? Well, you work around here as if you are."

I manage a smile in return. "Got Oscar in his rightful place, though, didn't I? Along with the rest of your awards."

"True, you did," he agrees. "I wouldn't have thought to even look for the boxes in any of those rooms."

I shake my head. Only Jared would stash his many film and music awards in forgotten-about boxes shoved in the corner of a remote basement room. It took me days to locate them, and when I did and asked him where to display them, he merely gave a noncommittal shrug, saying, "Wherever you think they should go. I didn't get into this business to have a shelf full of trophies."

Multiple shelves of trophies, morelike. I put the music awards on display in the soundstage, and the acting awards _—_ the Oscar, the Golden Globe, the SAG, and others I'd never heard of on shelves I put in the living room with Jared's El Capitan painting.

 

***

 

After Shelby's asleep, Jared returns to the studio and I go out on my patio and sit in the swing, rocking gently and staring up at the night sky. It's a beautiful clear night, and while the city lights dim the stars, just knowing they're overhead brings me a kind of comfort. No matter what, no matter where I am, the same stars still shine at night.

Jared returns from the studio shortly after eleven, but I'm lost in thought and don't hear him until he speaks right behind the swing.

"You okay, Lanie?" he asks quietly.

I jump at the sound of his voice. "Yeah, I'm fine," I answer, though my pulse is quickening by the way he's looking at me.

Jared moves around from the back of the swing and I scoot over to make room for him. He sits and for a time we just rock back and forth silently, neither of us speaking.

"She's got something on me," he finally says with a heavy sigh. "Something pretty big."

I immediately know who he's talking about. "What is it?" I ask.

Jared shakes his head. "It could be one of any number of things."

"But if you don't know what it is, how do you know there's anything at all?" I ask, studying his profile. He's looking up at the dim stars like I was before he joined me, his eyes fixed on the heavens overhead.

"Because Katia wouldn't be so insistent on keeping this up if she didn't have something to bargain with. People like Ivan and Katia Valkov use people to get what they want. They're rich as fuck, but they're takers. And they never move on a target without having some kind of insurance."

"So it's not your money they want. Whatever it is they have over you, it's not about money."

"No. Christ, Lanie, Ivan Valkov is a multi-billionaire. I'm small potatoes to people like him."

"Then is it something more...more personal?"

Jared looks at me, and his face is expressionless. "I'd say that's the most likely thing they've got. Dirt that they know I wouldn't want brought out into daylight." He sighs and rubs his face. "I don't know. I mean, on the one hand, if that's what it is, so the fuck what? Like there isn't enough out there already. What's a few more salacious gossip tidbits, right?" Jared turns to me suddenly. "Lanie, listen to me. When you start going online and you know where to look, you're going to read a lot of shit about me. I hope you'll steer clear of the tabloids and groupie gossip boards, but if you do happen upon them, I want you to promise me something."

"What?" I ask quietly, my heart thumping. His eyes are very direct, and very blue as they stare into mine.

"That you'll ask me if the stories are true or not before you believe them, and I promise I'll be truthful. I'll tell you right now the overwhelming majority of them are either outright lies or else hugely exaggerated versions of something that happened many, many years ago. I swear to God."

"Okay," I say quietly and I get up from the swing. "I can do that."

"Promise me you'll do that," Jared insists, his eyes following my every movement.

"I promise." I turn and go inside the house.

Jared follows. Moving quickly, considering he's wearing the brace, he catches up to me before I'm halfway across my bedroom. His hand snakes out and grabs my arm, spinning me around to face him, and then he yanks me against him. His mouth drops down on mine, hard, demanding. I kiss him back, sliding my hands over his strong shoulders, my fingers entwining themselves in his hair.

How does he know this is exactly what I need? I want to talk more. I want to get everything said and out in the open, but more than that, I need  _this._  The assurance his body pressed against mine can uniquely give me.

Jared's kiss gentles and then deepens, and I feel as though my bones are melting from the heat rushing between our bodies. His hands swoop under my oversized t-shirt and cup my breasts, teasing my nipples into hardened, hyper-sensitized peaks. A low moan rumbles up from deep in his throat, he breaks the kiss and whispers against my neck, "If I'm not inside you in about five minutes, Lanie, I'm going to explode."

His words send a thrill shooting through me. I step away, lock my bedroom door, and then return to where he's standing, watching me as I pull my shirt over my head and toss it aside.

"God, you're beautiful," he sighs as, wearing only panties now, I step closer and begin to undress him. Jared closes his eyes as I untie the drawstring on his track pants and slide my hands under the waistband. Those eyes open again as I tug them down over his hips, springing his manhood free, fully aroused, hard, ready, and gorgeously naked.

"Oh, Christ," he whispers as I drop to my knees. Burying his hands in my hair, he guides me where he wants me to go.

I can't begin to take all of him in my mouth. But Jared doesn't seem to mind. He gasps and moans under the tender assault of my lips, tongue, and my hand smoothly stroking his shaft. I shiver with anticipation of his entry.

"On the bed, Lanie." Jared's voice is a hiss, a growl, a testament of his need. "I need you on the bed now."

I look up at Jared and meet his eyes, so dark and filled with erotic hunger. So beautiful, so primitive and pagan and glorious. Slowly I rise to my feet and immediately Jared hooks his fingers in my panties and tears them from my body. That's the sixth pair he's ruined so far. The thought makes me laugh.

Jared returns my grin even as he pushes me gently down on the bed. I slide up and meet his gaze, but he doesn't move from where he's standing, watching me, eyes narrowed, the grin still on his lips.

I shiver as Jared keeps his eyes on mine, and he whispers, "Touch yourself. I want to watch you touch yourself first."

At first, I don't move. It's like I'm paralyzed. I know what he's asking of me, but I've never done that in front of anyone before and I'm not sure where to start.

"Now," he commands, his voice low and raspy.

Slowly, I run my hands down the sides of my neck, over my chest and to my breasts where they pause. Keeping my eyes on Jared's, I caress them, and then move down over my stomach to the juncture of my thighs and I slightly part my legs. I shiver again, this time with anticipation, as I touch myself the way Jared touches me.

His eyes still don't leave mine as he removes his leg brace and lowers himself onto the bed. As I just did, he slides his hands in the same path my own had taken, starting with my neck, which he encircles with one of his hands, stroking it, then over my breasts, my stomach, and to the heated core of me, touching me delicately with the pads of his fingertips.

Shutting my eyes tightly, I bunch the sheets in my hands, bite my lip and moan. Didn't he say five minutes or he'd explode? I need him inside me. Right now.

"Look at me," Jared growls, never letting up on the soft, gentle caresses of his fingers.

I open my eyes and meet his gaze. He owns me, I realize. Body and soul, for better or worse, Jared owns me. But I know in my heart that I own part of him as well. And he knows it too.

Jared shifts his body and reaches for the condoms in the drawer next to his side of the bed. Quickly he rolls one on. Then he opens my legs further, and with one long, hard thrust, claims me, surging deep inside me, making me gasp, making me cry out, making me love him.

I wrap myself around him, holding on tightly as he takes us both to dizzying, incredible heights. Frantic, clutching at each other, gasping, moaning. Jared's thrusts grow harder, deeper, and when my climax hits, it's with a harsh cry that Jared joins me, hurtling over the abyss into a joyous, throbbing paradise.

Jared lays, shaken and spent, curled in my arms. It's times like this that it feels like I've known him forever, as if Todd never existed and the man who saved me from the raging crowd at the State Fair is the one I've been with ever since. As if Jared fathered Shelby.

It's a silly, pointless fantasy, imagining that kind of what-if. But it keeps replaying as we lay there in the darkness, sweat-dampened and sated. What if I'd gone to the bus that night?

Then I'd have been one of many fucked-and-forgotten, that's what. For me it would have been a memorable one-night-stand with a rock star right on the heels of losing my virginity, and for Jared, nothing more than one more hookup with one more fan.

_Things happen for a reason. And things don't happen for a reason, too._

"You're a million miles away," Jared says quietly. "I can feel it."

"Mmm...I'm right here," I answer in a whisper, holding him, relishing the wonderful sensation of his bare skin against mine.

"I love you, Lanie," Jared whispers. He turns so he's facing me, his blue eyes penetrating the dimness of the room. "I know this situation is fucked up and it's weighing on you, and I'll do whatever I need to do to end it. Okay? But just know that no matter what tomorrow or whenever brings, I love you."

I comb the hair from his face with my fingers. "I love you, too."

Jared smiles, rises from the bed, and holds a hand out to me. "So. How about that swim?"

"Skinny-dipping?" I glance outside. "What if someone sees?"

"It's late. The land around here is all private property, gated, the whole bit. We'll keep the lights off. No one will be able to see anything. C'mon, let's go."

With a grin, I nod and take his hand. We hurry out the patio door and across the grounds to the pool where we swim, we play, and again make love, there in the water, completely oblivious to anything but each other.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

One thing's for sure, and that is I'm nervous.

I'm nervous about Katia Valkov's arrival this morning. I'm nervous that she'll walk in here like she owns the place—like she's been here dozens of times before and knows every nook and cranny as well as I do. I'm nervous that I'll be intimidated into silence...or, worse yet, into disappearance. I'm nervous about what she and Jared will discuss. I'm nervous about what she has hanging over him, if there's anything at all. Jared seems convinced that there is. And I'm nervous about the outcome of this meeting.

_Will he, or won't he?_

Probably in an effort to make me feel better, Jared fixes his famous vegan pancakes for breakfast. It's Saturday, which means Shelby doesn't have school. I can only hope she'll go hang out with Tyrell by the time Katia shows up, but she seems perfectly content to sit at the table with us and take her time eating. I glance at the clock—it's quarter after nine.

Jared doesn't miss a thing. "Five minutes since the last time you looked," he murmurs. "Lanie, this isn't as big a deal as you're making it out to be." His phone buzzes and he glances down at it quickly before silencing it.

"Who's that?" I ask, sipping my coffee.

"Suzanne Hoffman, my chief publicist," he replies. "Again. She's been texting me non-stop all morning. Seems like everyone has." He shoves the phone in his pocket.

"Yeah, I noticed it's been going off constantly. Texts  _and_  calls. What's up?"

Jared shrugs. "No idea. I haven't read any of the texts or listened to my voicemail yet. I try to make it a point not to spoil my appetite in the morning. Y'know, breakfast being the most important meal of the day and all that."

Shelby stabs into a large piece of pancake, her eyes flitting between me and Jared. "You guys seem uptight or something," she observes. Her phone beside her plate buzzes and she looks down at it, swiping the screen.

"Jared has...an important meeting soon," I explain. "I guess we're a little on edge about it, and—"

"Oh, my  _God!"_  Shelby squeals, looking up from her phone. "Nick Jonas is gonna be at Mylloni's house today! She wants to know if I want to come over and meet him!" She bounces up and down in her chair. "Please, can I?"

"Wow, Nick Jonas, huh?" Jared grins. "He's a pretty big deal."

"Big? He's  _awesome!"_  Shelby shrieks. "He's  _sooooo_  cute!"

"Who the hell is Nick Jonas?" I ask, looking from one to the other.

Jared's grin becomes a laugh. I shoot him a withering stare as Shelby rolls her eyes. "Oh, God, Mom. Seriously? He's super famous. As famous as Jared. Maybe even  _more_  famous."

"Hey now." Jared gives her a scowl, and then a wink. "With your generation, I'm sure he is a lot more famous than me. I'm an old man, after all."

"Oh, good grief," I groan. "You're  _not_ old."

"So can I go to Mylloni's and meet him?" Shelby implores.

I shrug. "I don't see why not. Jimmy can take you." I don't know who Nick Jonas is, but thank God Shelby has found something to get her out of the compound today. I have no idea how this meeting with Katia is going to go down, but given the woman's penchant for theatrics, I'd rather Shelby not be around for it. Hell, I'd rather not be around for it, but Jared wants me to be here—in the room, with them. God knows why.

Actually, I know why. He told me why, last night after our swim, when we settled into bed for the night.

He wants me there to lay whatever insecurity I have where Katia's concerned to rest. Because he knows she intimidates me and he says there's absolutely no reason why she should. "Believe me. Once you actually try to have a conversation with Katia, you'll feel foolish that you could ever have thought she's better than you," he said last night, pulling me into his arms. I lay my head in my favorite place—the crook of his shoulder, where I could both hear and feel his heartbeat, and I listened to him tell me that despite her vast wealth and stunning beauty, Katia Valkov is little more than a vapid, self-absorbed opportunist. "I don't love her. I never did. I don't particularly even  _like_ her."

 _You liked her enough to date her for months, and not only for the photo ops._   _You liked her enough to fuck her repeatedly._

But then I remembered—Jared doesn't mix sex with emotional involvements. I also remembered that he said monogamy is an alien concept to him, that he's screwed around on every woman he's ever been involved with.

After Shelby leaves the table to get ready to meet her idol, I clean the kitchen, still looking at the clock, still mulling over whether I belong in this meeting. Whether I belong in this house, with this man, in this city of excess, weird relationships, and anything-goes hedonism that Jared not only takes in stride, but has been a willing participant in. I'm no prude, but I do have values. Values that right now, and in this place, seem hopelessly outdated.

Voices pull me from my reverie as I switch on the dishwasher. At first I wonder if Katia's arrived a full hour early, but then I realize all the voices are male. One is Jared's. The other is Jimmy's. The third I don't recognize.

"I'm so sorry, Jared. Like I said, I've been out of town until this morning. I thought my dog and my security staff were plenty. In the two years I've lived here we haven't had a single successful breach. If I'd had any idea this was going to happen, I'd have—"

"It's not your fault, Pharrell," Jared says with a sigh. "I'm just sick that they poisoned your dog. What the fuck is  _wrong_  with these parasites!"

"A lot," Jimmy grumbles. "This guy thought nothing of hurting an innocent animal, exploiting Lanie, you and the children, all in the name of getting a big payout from the tabloids. You've got the potential for a hell of a lawsuit here, but it's not enough. Gentlemen, I think it's time to press criminal charges."

I dry my hands and hurry out of the kitchen, my heart leaping in my chest.

Jared, Jimmy, and a slender, well-dressed African-American man are standing in the main living room, and they all stop talking and turn to me as I come in the room. Jared is pale and tense. Jimmy's big shoulders are stiff, as is his expression. The other man appears shaken.

"What's going on?" I ask.

Jared swallows hard, glances at the two men, and then back at me. "There was a pap up the hill from the pool yesterday. There are photos. Several of them. Of yesterday...and of last night."

"Oh, my God," I whisper, growing cold all over. "Of me...of me and the children and...of us last night in the pool? But you said—"

"Yeah. Of you. Of the children. Of you and me, last night." Jared's jaw works. "If I could get my hands on that slime, I'd kill him with my bare fucking hands."

"You said...it's all private property around here. That it was dark. That no one...no one would see..." my voice is trembling.

"I own the house above the hill where the pics were taken from. My dog, you've probably heard her barking. She is...she  _was_...pretty noisy."

I nod; I have heard a dog barking up over the hill from the pool. And, come to think of it, that barking was conspicuously absent last night.

The stranger steps forward, offers a hand and I shake it. He says, "I'm Pharrell Williams. I'm pleased to meet you, Lanie, but I'm sorry it's like this. And I can't tell you and Jared both how sorry I am that this happened."

"It's not your fault," Jared puts a hand on Pharrell's shoulder and squeezes. "If anything, I bear some responsibility for your dog's death. I talked Lanie into that swim last night knowing the pap have been on my case recently. I just didn't think they'd stoop to  _this._ But I should've known." He shakes his head. "Well, it's clear why everyone on my team has been blowing up my phone all morning."

"So these pictures...they're already published on the internet?" I manage.

Jared looks at me. "They've gone viral. Trending on Twitter."

I don't know what that means, and I don't want to know. "Let me see," I say softly.

"Lanie, I really don't think—"

"I don't know how to do all that with my phone yet. Let me see yours, Jared." I put my hand out, and slowly Jared places his phone in my hand.

I look. And gasp. And look some more.

A half-dozen photos taken yesterday as first Shelby, Tyrell and I, and then Jared hang out by the pool. A shot of him holding me and kissing my forehead. More of the four of us in the water. And then the real money shots, those taken late last night when Jared and I swam nude, and then made love against the side of the pool. The pictures aren't great quality due to the darkness of night and the fact that we were in the water, but it's clear exactly what's going on.

Moments that had been special and meaningful between us are now something made shameful and dirty for the whole world to gawk at and gossip about. I feel sick and violated, and I can imagine Jared feels much the same, despite having dealt with this invasion of privacy for years.

Jared has asked me to be strong enough to deal with his celebrity. I promised him and myself that I would. And I guess this, as disgusting as it is, qualifies as part of his celebrity. Hastily I wipe away the tears and turn away, drawing a deep, shuddering breath. "Well...at least ours aren't as graphic as I thought they might be. That guy needs a better lens for night photography."

"Lanie—" Jared's voice is soft, pleading. "I'm sorry—if I'd had any idea something like this would happen, I wouldn't have—"

"No. You shouldn't have to apologize for anything," I move to his side and he pulls me to him, his body stiff and tense. My voice is low but laced with anger. "This is your house, Jared. You should be able to do whatever you want at your own home, in your own pool, without worrying about some sleazy paparazzi hiding in the trees taking pictures." I raise my eyes to Pharrell. "And your neighbors shouldn't have to worry that someone will trespass on their property and hurt their pets."

"Unfortunately, a celebrity doesn't have that luxury," Pharrell says gently, and I see the sadness in his eyes.

"Obviously not." I hand the phone back to Jared, who shoves it in his pocket. "You've said you don't belong to yourself, Jared, and I'm finally understanding exactly what you mean by that."

Shelby takes that opportunity to come running to the room. Oh, God.  _Shelby._  Not only is her face splashed all over the internet, but her mother's been photographed naked and having sex in the pool. There's no way she won't find out, and I know that I along with Jared should be the ones to tell her.

"Hey, Jimmy, can you take me to—" Shelby stops, her eyes bugging at Pharrell. "You...you're...Pharrell. The  _Happy_  song guy, right?"

Pharrell grins. "Yes ma'am."

"Wowwwww," Shelby breathes. "I  _love_  that song! No matter what, it always puts me in a good mood whenever I hear it. I'm Shelby." She puts out her hand and Pharrell shakes it.

His grin widens. "Nice to meet you, Shelby.

 _"Happy_  is on my karaoke machine, too," Shelby says. She looks at Jimmy then, seemingly remembering what she'd come into the room for. "Mom said I can go over to Mylloni Abram's house if you take me. And Mylloni wants to know if Ty can come, too?"

"Sure," Jimmy says. He glances at me, and I know what he's thinking. Yes, Jared and I have to tell Shelby about the pictures, but not right now. I'm still reeling from it, and on top of that I've also got to prepare myself for Katia Valkov's arrival, which will be any minute now.

After Shelby and Jimmy, and then Pharrell leaves, I make my way back to the kitchen where I stand bracing myself against the counter, staring out the window, peering at the trees up on the hillside. Are they out there now? Am I going to have to constantly ask myself that question? Am I forever required to be mindful of everything I do and how I look when I step out of the house?

"Lanie. Are you okay?" Jared asks from the doorway.

I don't turn and look at him. I keep my gaze on the window, on the hillside, on the trees and on every shadow among them. "I don't know," I answer quietly. "I—I don't know how youcan live like this."

Jared sighs and I finally turn as he crosses the room to stand before me. His arms as they wrap around me are tentative, as if he's unsure that I want him this close to me. I lean into him and rest my head on his shoulder, and his embrace tightens.

"You know, I'm remembering something," he murmurs. "A long time ago. When Shannon and I were kids. I can't remember a time when we weren't making music, even when we both got into drugs and booze and shit when we were teenagers."

"Yeah?" My voice is muffled against his shoulder.

"Uh-huh. Life was pretty chaotic even then, but it was a different kind of chaotic. It was insecurity, it was growing up, it was Mom away at work and at school, and the two of us getting into whatever trouble we could find. But it was simpler then, yes." He takes a long breath. "Writing songs in our bedroom. Playing them on our shitty instruments. Not knowing then what it was going to become."

"Something huge."

"Yeah." Another sigh. "We played gigs in dive bars where five people showed up. Sometimes we actually had to pay the club to let us play. But God, those days were so much fucking fun, Lanie. We listened, we experimented, we worked our asses off. I had my acting thing going on, but for Shannon, the band was it. We got a couple of guys on board and then  _boom._  We got signed, and it was like getting shoved in fast-forward even more for me. I didn't have a chance to stop, take a breath, and wonder how Shannon was dealing with it."

"Fame?"

"Yeah. I mean, I was already somewhat known, but my brother was brand-new to all of this. It was weird for him going from working construction into being recognized on the street, perfect strangers coming up to him asking for pictures with him and autographs. The first time he got papped he freaked out. He's gotten used it it now, at least as much as anyone can get used to being followed around while you're just trying to live a life, while you're trying to go about that daily life like everyone else can." Jared shakes his head. "Having said that, papping Shelby and Ty, and then us, and my God, with what happened to Pharrell's dog? They've crossed lines before, but not to this extent, and I  _will_  take action."

I nod against his chest."It scares the hell out of me, what they think they can get away with."

"People say when you choose to become a celebrity, you choose to give up any semblance of a private, normal life. It stands to reason, I guess, since we're a celebrity-obsessed culture. The internet has only deepened that obsession. What used to be on some obscure grocery store tabloid can now be accessed instantly on dozens and dozens of gossip sites. Complete with the salacious articles to go with the pictures."

"Did...ours have an article?" I ask.

"Yeah. I didn't bother reading it and neither should you." He draws back a little. "Lanie, if you're going to be with me, you're going to have to accept this is how things are. Again, not that this is okay, and I'll hit them with a slew of lawyer's letters letting them know just how not okay it is. But this is how things are in the bubble."

I stare up into his direct blue eyes. "Is it worth it?" I ask.

Jared's face is grim. "Not during times like this, it's not, no. But it's not always like this, either. I'm only on the radar right now because Katia's made it a point to keep me there. Usually I get papped out hiking, or going to the grocery store or arriving at and leaving an event. Not when leaving Cedars, and certainly not in my own fucking backyard."

I hear a sound outside and I turn. "Speaking of Katia," I murmur as a sleek black sports car of unknown and probably foreign origin pulls into the motor court.

_So, Katia knows the gate security code. That's going to change. Today._

Jared peers out the window, his eyes narrowing a little, and then he sighs. He looks at me, his expression resigned. "Well, let's get this over with."

 

***

 

"We have a problem," Katia begins with no greeting whatsoever the moment she steps into the foyer. Her glass-green eyes sweep over me, and then lock on."You.  _God!"_  she sneers, and with a toss of her perfectly groomed head, breezes past me into the living room like she owns the place. Just like I knew she would.

"What problem is that, Katia?" Jared sighs, throwing himself into a beanbag chair. I stand uncertainly in the archway until Jared beckons me forward. I ease myself into a chair nearby, fold my hands, and wonder what the hell I'm doing here.

Katia refuses the seat Jared offers her. Standing in the middle of the room, eyes blazing, she spits, "You know what the problem is. Refusing to continue our arrangement." Her eyes briefly flit in my direction. "Then this—this  _person_  moving into your home. And finally, your indiscretions. Quite a show the two of you put on for the paparazzi last night. You wanted to humiliate me? Congratulations. You succeeded."

"Believe it or not, it's not always about you, Katia," Jared says levelly. "Get it through your head that I'm done with this. Find someone else to boost your profile and take your shit, because it isn't gonna be me any longer."

Katia's eyes narrow. "Like hell it isn't. We have an  _agreement._  We date through Awards Season, and Papa will finance your next film." A smile forms on her perfect lips. "I've asked Papa to see that I am cast in the lead opposite you."

"Yeah, I know you did. I guess  _Papa_  didn't tell you that  _Destination's_  been shelved," Jared fires back. "Tough luck."

"I'm not talking about  _Destination,"_ Katia says, strolling slowly across the room to Jared. "I'm talking about the film Liz Moore is producing.  _Devil's Playground._  I understand you've signed on for the lead."

I look quickly at Jared as his eyes widen, he opens his mouth to speak, closes it again, glances at me, and then back at Katia. He says, "Your father's putting up the money for that film? I thought he didn't want to work with women directors and producers."

"I guess he's willing to overlook it this once, because the script is sensational and the role of Diana is perfect for me. I want it, and between Papa and you, I'll have no problem getting it." She looks over at me and smiles. "Jared and I will make love on camera, you know. Several times, in fact. The sex scenes between us are... _mmmmm_. Delicious." Her smile broadens.

I clutch the arms of the chair until my fingers ache. Katia's doing her best to bait me, and I have to resort to superhuman willpower against the temptation to leap up and lay her flat on the floor. Instinctively, I know that's exactly what she wants. And so I smile back, replying calmly, "Well, Jared isa fantastic actor. He should earn another Oscar nomination for  _that_ performance."

Behind her back, Jared is biting back laughter. Katia blinks several times uncomprehendingly, lascivious smile firmly in place, and then a few seconds later her face grows rigid, pink spots flare on her cheeks, and her green eyes flash with fury.  _Cunt,_  she mouths, and then turns to Jared who's rising awkwardly from the beanbag chair. "So, Jared. Since when did you start fucking your assistants, anyway?" She gives a dramatic pause. "Oh, that's right. Since always. It's common Hollywood knowledge that you've nailed every assistant who's ever worked for you."

Jared pulls himself upright. "I'm not even going to dignify  _that_  with an answer." He puts his hands on his hips. "Cut the high-school crap, Katia. What do you want?"

Katia steps very close to him and runs her talon-like, perfectly manicured nails over his chest. Again, I have to physically restrain myself from jumping up and knocking the bitch across the room. "What I want is very simple. I want our arrangement to continue through Awards Season. I want the part of Diana in  _Devil's Playground._ We'll shoot the film, attend the premiere, and do any press associated with it together. That's it. After the wide release we'll make up some amicable split statement for the media." Her eyes flit to me briefly again. "Oh, and Jared, until then, keep your screwing around out of the public eye. It's getting tiresome fending off the press about my cheating boyfriend."

"And if I say no?" Jared's teeth are clenched and his jaw's working. His eyes are like chips of blue ice. I can see why he wanted me here—he might be a great actor, but this is no act now. His mounting anger is tangible even where I'm sitting. He truly does detest this woman.

Katia sighs, and the hand stroking his chest becomes a condescending pat. "If you value your precious image and your career, you'll join Papa and I at Bouchon tomorrow night at seven o'clock. We have a little surprise for you." She glances at me. "You, too. Evening attire is required. That won't be a problem for you, I hope." Without waiting for a response, she tilts her head as she studies me. "You know, I don't believe I ever got your name."

"That's right. You didn't," I reply icily.

Katia considers me for a moment. "That pretty little blonde girl who was photographed in the pool—your daughter?"

"Yes," I say, my tone acidic. "Why?"

Katia waves a hand carelessly. "Well, I don't have kids, so I probably shouldn't hand out parenting advice, but if you plan to stick around here long-term you might want to keep an extra-special eye on her. Jared's...ah... _tastes_...tend to lean toward younger girls, you know."

My vision goes red, and this time I can't hold back. I bolt from my chair. But Jared's quick, probably anticipating my reaction. He moves in my way and grabs me before I can reach Katia, who, after delivering her punchline, is exiting the room. "Lanie, no—" Jared grips me tight. "Don't."

"See you both tomorrow night," Katia calls gaily over her shoulder. "I for one can't  _wait!"_  She leaves the room. A second later, the front door slams.

"I swear to _God_ — _"_ vainly, I twist and struggle to break free of Jared's iron hold on me. I'll kill Katia Valkov myself, if he'll give me half a chance. I'll tear her emaciated ass to shreds. "Let  _go_  of me, damn it!"

Instead of letting go of me, his powerful arms pull me tightly against him. "I know, Lanie. I know. But that's exactly what she wants. You kick her ass, she cries to the media, and our so-called love triangle is at the top of the tabloid news for weeks to come. You'd be playing right into her hands, Lanie. Don't do it."

"How? How can you let her  _say_  that shit and then walk out of here, Jared?" I demand. "For fuck's sake, she just practically accused you of being a  _pedophile!"_

Jared lets go of me and looks at me solemnly. "Do you think I'd  _ever_  do anything like that?"

"Of course not! But—"

"Then it doesn't matter what she says. She knew  _exactly_ what she was doing. You sat there and quietly took everything she dished out. It pissed her off. She was baiting you, hoping for a reaction."

"Well, she succeeded." I sink back into the chair, my head in my hands. "Oh, God, Jared. You're ridiculously intelligent. You say you have instincts about people and that's why you keep your circle small. So how the hell did you ever get mixed up with someone like her in the first place?"

Jared runs his hands through his hair and sighs. "That's a long, weird story." He pulls his phone out of his pocket just as it vibrates again. He stares balefully at the screen. "I'll tell you if you want to hear it, but right now I've got about a hundred fires to put out." He pockets the phone again, crouches down and takes my icy hands in his. He frowns, rubbing them between his own. "Lanie, it's going to be okay. Stay strong, and everything will be okay." 

But even as Jared speaks, the emotions crossing his face— anger, sadness, resignation—make me wonder if he believes his own words.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

Though Jared's been preoccupied dealing with everyone from his two personal assistants to his management to his lawyer to the police, he's true to his word, sitting me down and telling me the story of how he met and got tangled up with Katia Valkov. It is as he said—a long, weird story, and further evidence that relationships among the Hollywood elite are truly bizarre.

_Jared Leto and Katia Valkov met last year in Rome at an fashion event put on by Gucci. Jared was there to shoot an ad; Katia was there with Ivan, who is an investor in the company. She had only done a few minor runway shows in New York, Europe and her homeland of Russia up to that point, and she was hungry for more. Laying eyes on Jared Leto across the room at the gala, that hunger grew to include him._

_Ivan, eager to please his daughter and knowing that Jared could do for Katia what all the money in the world could not, arranged a meeting with Allesandro Michele, Gucci Creative Director and a personal friend of Jared's. Ivan requested a test shoot for the two of them for another ad campaign Allesandro was developing, and Allesandro agreed._

_The result was dynamite. The camera loved the pairing, and an affair resulted—with Ivan's seal of approval. Plenty of paparazzi, also arranged by Ivan, captured the pair out and about the ancient, beautiful and romantic city—at dinner, strolling arm in arm through Via Del Corso, at the exclusive Goa club where all the beautiful people went to drink, dance, and be seen._

_Toward the end of his time in Rome, the rumor reached Jared that Katia already had a man in her life—a husband, in fact—a detail she'd neglected to mention to him. Confronted, Katia merely gave Jared a careless shrug. "He's of no consequence. He won't bother us, darling. We have an understanding, and he keeps himself occupied." Whatever that meant._

_Unpersuaded, Jared broke off his relationship with Katia and flew back to America. He then threw himself into working on 30 Seconds to Mars's fifth album. Later, he was in Tokyo filming an independent movie titled_ The Outsider. _By then, consumed with creative energy, he'd almost forgotten about Katia Valkov._

_And then one day she showed up in Tokyo, catching him off-guard at his hotel as he returned from a day of shooting. "I thought you'd gone back to Russia," he said blankly. "And to your husband that you somehow forgot to mention to me."_

_"Old news, darling," Katia said airily, and then fixed him with a look that made his knees a little weak. "We are in the process of divorce." A soft hand caressed his cheek. "I've missed you," she purred. "And I believe you've missed me. Now, shall we go to your room?"_

_And so it began again. But Jared soon came to realize that Katia was only after one thing, and it wasn't his love. Nor was it his money. In addition to being almost twenty years younger than he, she was also at least twenty times richer. No, Katia was after something much more valuable. She wanted fame. Real fame._ Hollywood  _fame. She had no intention of being dismissed any longer as another Paris Hilton or Kim Kardashian, famous for being famous and widely ridiculed as a result. She wanted respect, and she knew how she was going to get it. Jared Leto was the key._

_Jared was incensed at the realization that he was being used. He was also put out by the tabloids, the gossip blogs, and even some of his core fanbase, the Echelon, sniggering at a nearly forty-five-year-old man dating a girl young enough to be his daughter. While he was making a fool out of himself, Katia's star was beginning to rise, just as she and her father knew it would, thanks to being seen front and center with a hugely successful, much-sought-after A-list Oscar winner and rock star._

_And it all happened very quickly. In addition to the Gucci ad, Katia also landed a hugely lucrative contract with the True Religion clothing line which kept her working in California. She also modeled for Abercrombie and Fitch, appearing in their storefront photos across every mall in the country. She appeared in Sports Illustrated's Swimsuit issue, though not on the cover as she'd hoped. She was in a Victoria's Secret commercial, and that's when she began to set her sights on becoming an actress. Ivan began to scout out casting directors and suitable scripts. Jared reluctantly went along with her demands that he find her something to star in._

_"She's cutting your balls off," Shannon observed after a couple of months._

_"She's a user," Tomo and Stevie agreed._

_"She's beautiful," his mother allowed. "But beauty is certainly only skin-deep with her."_

_The divorce failed to materialize. And then in August, Katia appeared with a man in tow at an afterparty following the MTV Video Music Awards where 30 Seconds to Mars performed their new single,_ Walk on Water.   _At the sight of the devastatingly handsome model whose arm Katia was clinging to, Jared froze and felt the blood drain from his face. "Kristov," he murmured in shock. "It's... been a long time."_

_Kristov Belneczek smiled, displaying a perfect set of teeth to rival Jared's own. "Yes, Jared, it has been a long time," he replied in his thick Russian accent. "Too long."_

 

_***_

 

"You knew him," I say as Jared's voice trails off. "You  _knew_ her husband?"

Jared nods, but he doesn't meet my eyes. "Yeah. I knew him."

"How?"

Jared sighs, and still he doesn't look at me. His focus is across the room, and I know he's not looking at anything, as all that's there is a blank white wall. "That's another long story, and I really don't want to talk about it. I knew him. You could say we were friends at one time. Leave it at that." He glances down at his phone. "I've got some more stuff to do before Suzanne gets here. Then Shannon's coming over for some studio time, and I really need a shower."

"You just took a shower this morning," I point out.

"Yeah, well, I need another one." Jared gets up and leaves the room, leaving me to stare after him.

There's more to this convoluted mess with Katia Valkov. A lot more. But it's clear that now is not the time to press him about it.

 

***

 

"I knew from the second I woke up that this was going to be a fucked-up day."

I turn around and face Shannon, staring moodily at the half-smoked cigarette between his fingers, his hazel eyes narrowed in a frown. "Jared, that was stupid.  _Really_  stupid." He lifts his eyes and locks on mine. I brace myself for the ass-chewing I'm certain he's dying to give me, like this is all my fault because I blew off his warning about getting too involved with his little brother.

But blessedly, Shannon stays silent about all that. Instead, he spins the cigarette back and forth between his fingers and stands up, walking across the patio deck that adjoins the studio and soundstage. "So what's your move?" he ventures as he lights up.

"With the pap or with Katia and Ivan?" Jared asks, his eyes on his brother. The exhaustion in them, the tension, the seeming weight of the world breaks my heart and floods me with guilt. Sure, Jared talked me into that swim, but what followed, what the pap captured for the entire world to see, that was instigated by me. I can't help but feel responsible.

It's been a long day of returned phone calls, returned texts, a visit from the police—during which I made myself as scarce as possible in a remote section of the compound—and then later, there was the very acrimonious in-person meeting with Suzanne Hoffman. Jared finished that conversation with her dismissal from his team. The woman peeled out of the motor court in a fury just as Shannon arrived, nearly colliding with his motorcycle at the gate. To put it mildly, Jared's mood since then has been black. Even throwing himself into his music has done little to elevate it.

Shannon drags deeply on the cigarette. Letting out a cloud of smoke, he says, "Either. Both. You've gotten yourself into a helluva jam, and you've got damage control to do. The Echelon—"

"I'm taking legal action for the photos. The team's already on it. Pharrell and I both have filed police reports and they're investigating. But as far as me addressing this publicly?" Jared holds up both hands. "I'm not getting on the socials and feeding more fuel into it." He shakes his head. "What could I say about it, anyway?"

"People want to know who she is," Shannon says, gesturing at me. "People know it wasn't Katia you were banging, and there's a mixed bag of reactions to that. They know she's the same woman from the Cedars photos, and they want to know who she is." His eyes fix on mine again, a glint of accusation in their hazel depths. "The speculations are running rampant, and it's getting nuts."

I wince a little at the word  _banging,_ but I glare steadily back at Shannon until he drops his gaze from mine and instead, studies the burning ember on his cigarette.

"Lanie's name isn't going out there, Shannon. For obvious reasons." Jared sighs and rubs his temples, asking quietly, "Does Mom know about this yet? She's probably the only person I haven't heard from."

"I don't know. She's still out east with Linda at that jewelry design thing they're teaching. I doubt it, because if she knew, she'd have let you hear about it. Jesus, Jared, what the fuck were you  _thinking?"_ Shannon drags long and deep on his cigarette one final time, and flicks the butt out into the yard.

"Pick that up," Jared says wearily. "Come on, man."

Shannon rolls his eyes and retrieves the smouldering cigarette butt. Stubbing it out on the slate patio floor, he asks,"And this thing about meeting Katia and Ivan tomorrow night. You're not really gonna go, are you?"

Jared shrugs. "I haven't decided  _not_  to go."

Shannon scoffs. "What did she say? That if you value your image and career, you'll be there? That she has a  _surprise_  for you?" His eyes narrow again. "Sounds like blackmail to me."

"Sure does," I mutter almost inaudibly.

Jared shoots me a sideways glance and grasps my hand. "Yeah, I'm positive that's what she's trying to do. She probably has a wealth of dirt on me but I don't give a fuck. I'm not playing this game with her, no matter what it is she's got. I have something a lot more important to me in my life now, and I'm not going to waste another minute of my time and energy playing these games with her."

Shannon eyes our joined hands and he bites his bottom lip. "Are you two..." he waves his index finger back and forth between us. "I know what happened in the pool, but—is this—you know..." he trails off and gestures helplessly.

"A  _relationship?"_  Jared supplies, his eyes sparking with what looks like defiance. "Yeah, Shannon. It is. Lanie and I are together. Don't tell me this takes you by surprise."

Shannon is silent for a moment, just staring at us. "Wow," he says finally. "No, I guess it doesn't. I saw the possibility of it back in Oak Creek Canyon, but I've also watched you stumble your way around with a lot of chicks since Cameron. I'd really gotten to the point where I didn't think..." he trails off again, and rubs his chin. "I didn't think you had it in you anymore."

Jared offers his brother a small smile. "To tell you the truth, Shan, I didn't think I had it in me anymore, either."

Shannon pulls up an Adirondack chair and begins twisting the burned-out cigarette filter between his fingers again. "So, tell me then. What's the point of subjecting yourself and especially Lanie to the two of them if you really don't care what they have to use against you?"

Jared's jaw sets in that way he has, and his eyes cloud over. "Call it morbid curiosity. Call it standing up for what's right and letting them know face-to-face that I'm not their toy, that I'm not their whore, and that I can't be bought. Not at  _any_  price. And as for Lanie, I know she can hold her own with them."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." I lean my head back and stare up at the cloudless sky. "At least one of us has some."

 

***

 

That evening after returning from her friend's house, Shelby listens quietly as Jared and I do our best to explain the photos and exploding gossip continuing to rocket across social media. Her eyes dart between us where we sit on either side of her on the couch in her tower's TV room as Jared speaks about unscrupulous reporters and photographers who think nothing of invading the privacy of famous people and selling whatever photos and information they can get. Knowing Shelby is an animal lover, he prudently omits the part about the poisoning death of Pharrell Williams's dog.

Thank God Shelby already knows about the birds and the bees, so it's a little easier to explain about Jared and me. There's a little bit of embarrassed squirming at first, but then she shrugs and in a matter-of-fact manner, she says, "Sex is a part of life. It's a part of love between grown-ups, and I know you're in love with each other. I've known that for a long time."

Jared smiles a little. "How did you know, Miss Smarty-Pants?"

Shelby gives him a crooked grin. "I'm not blind. I saw it even before we came to California. When you were unconscious, after Mom stitched your leg and set it, she stayed by your side without sleeping at all. One time I woke up during the night and she'd lit the candle and was sitting with you, touching your hair and your face, holding your hand and she was crying. Mom never really cries, not ever. I've only seen her cry like that one other time, when my grandpa died. And after you started getting better, you looked at my mom and talked to her in a way I've never seen anyone look at her or talk to her. Not even my dad."

Jared's eyes meet mine over Shelby's head and we exchange a long, meaningful look. Then I take Shelby's hand in mine. "You're right," I say softly. I draw a deep breath. "So...look. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or embarrass you by talking about this, but Jared and I both thought it best to sit you down and tell you ourselves what's out there on the internet."

"Yeah." Shelby sighs. "I'm worried about it."

"About what kids at school might say?" Jared asks. "If you want, I'll go talk to your school. Hopefully they'll nip anything in the bud if kids start giving you a hard time."

"No, not that. Lots of kids at school have parents who are famous and there's bad stuff on the internet about them. I'm not worried about that as much as I am that Dad can find us now." Shelby looks up at me, her eyes wide and suddenly frightened. "He can't find us, Mom. He hurt you before. He'll take me away again, he'll hurt you again, and he'll hurt Jared."

 

***

 

"Jared?"

"Hmm?" he answers, drawing me closer to him, wrapping both an arm and a leg around me.

I turn and look at him through the near-darkness of my bedroom— _our_  bedroom. The blinds are drawn tightly closed, but since Jared insists on having some light in the room as he sleeps, a thin sliver beams out from the bathroom door, which is cracked open just the slightest bit. "I'm a little confused about something Katia said."

Jared's eyes meet mine. "We just made love. Do we have to talk about Katia now?"

It's the first time Jared's referred to it as making love, and I can't help but smile at that. "It's not really about her, it's about something she said, and something you didn't correct her on."

Jared blinks sleepily. "What's that?"

 _"Devil's Playground._  She said you signed on for the lead role. You told me you didn't, that you're the villain."

"Ah, you caught that." Jared gives me a devilish grin. "Yeah, originally I was approached to play the lead. It was an interesting role, but after I read the script, I was much more pulled into the character of Jonathan Franco. I felt I could do a lot more with him. And I threw them some names to consider for the lead."

"And Katia knows nothing about this, even though her dad's putting up money for the film?"

"That's right. Ivan has no real input in this one and who gets cast in what role isn't a part of the process that he's actually involved in, even if Katia and he himself think he is. Liz Moore is adamant about that. She may like his money, but Liz despises Ivan. Most people do, really, but especially women in the industry. His reputation precedes him."

"What—he's a chauvinist pig?"

Jared laughs, a low rumbling sound. "Ever hear of Harvey Weinstein?"

I shake my head. "No. Who is he?"

"He's an executive producer, co-founded Miramax Films, and is one of the biggest leches in the business. As we speak, the guy's up to his neck in allegations of sexual harassment, sexual assault, and outright rape."

"Sounds like a real prince charming," I remark.

"Yeah, well, Harvey and Ivan are very good friends." Jared sighs. "And you know what they say. Birds of a feather."

"Great. Can't wait to meet him."

Long after Jared's asleep, his arms wrapped around me and one leg still draped across mine, I stare up at the ceiling, absorbing everything from this very long, very rough day. Especially the prospect of meeting with Katia and Ivan tomorrow evening. Jared has made the decision to go, and I'd be lying if I didn't say I've got major butterflies about it. At least it's a public place, some fancy French restaurant where the menu is in French and the staff speak only French. And formal evening attire. Well, at least I can finally put on that black cocktail dress Flora insisted I needed. Jared hasn't seen it yet, and despite the nature of this meeting, I'm kind of looking forward to his reaction to it.

Gene and David will be accompanying us to the restaurant, and they'll hopefully deal with any paparazzi we encounter. Not that it matters at this point, of course. But Jared's worried about me being harrassed, and about further pictures of me getting out there.

I snuggle closer to Jared, who murmurs something and kisses my temple. I reflect on our talk with Shelby. My heart twists at the memory of the fear in her eyes as she spoke about the possibility of Todd finding us.

It's not right that just the mere thought of a child's own father can bring such terror. The very real prospect of Todd coming to L.A. and hunting us down is something I struggle daily to contain; I'd drive myself crazy if I thought about it too much. And, I admit, I've deliberately shoved thoughts of Todd aside to focus on the nirvana that Shelby and I have now. This man holding me now loves us. Of that I have no doubt. He also believes in his whole heart that he can protect us, that Jimmy, David and Gene as well as the security of the compound are enough.

But they're  _not_  enough. The pap on the hill proved that. The man breached Pharrell Williams's impenetrable property, killed his dog, and got himself into perfect position and stayed there, all completely undetected. I wonder how a mere sleazy photographer gained the skills necessary to pull off a feat like that. If a pap could do it, then—

"Oh, my God," I whisper, as the sudden, awful thought explodes in my head. 


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

Because I don't know jack shit about makeup or hair or any of that stuff, I've called Flora to the compound to help me get ready for the meeting at Bouchon tonight. Not that I give a damn about what Katia and Ivan Valkov will think about the way I look. But this restaurant we're going to calls for at least an effort, and I wouldn't know how to begin to make myself look the part. Lanie McCarty appearing in public on the arm of Jared Leto and looking glamorous? The very idea is madness.

 _Madness?_  Yes. That's what this whole thing is. Complete and utter madness.

"You know, I'd hoped you'd wear this dress for a date night," Flora murmurs as she works on my eyeliner. She frowns in concentration, then nods and smudges it with a sponge-tipped wand. "I don't think this meeting with the Valkovs counts as a date."

"It's not," I mutter, trying my best to hold still and not blink. "I don't know why that bitch even wants me there at all. It's weird. This whole thing is weird."

"Yeah, it is. I don't like the sounds of it, Lanie.  This sounds like a setup. Katia is one thing and she's bad enough, but Ivan Valkov is in another league." She finishes the liner, steps back, and her eyes dart back and forth, nodding to herself.

"What do you know about Ivan, anyway?" I venture. "Jared's told me some things about him. He sounds like a disgusting creep."

"A  _rich_  disgusting creep," Flora says, putting the liner back in the makeup kit she's brought along for me. She rummages through the contents and comes up with a tube of mascara. Cracking the seal, she pulls out the wand and steps close to me again. "Eyes wide open and hold really still," she instructs. "Ivan's a shady guy, obviously. I don't know exactly how he makes his money besides what he puts into films. Foreign investments, import-export, it's all very vague. But the guy shits gold bars and I for one don't believe it's all legit. My guess is he's either involved in the Mob, drugs, human trafficking, or all of the above. God, you're so lucky to have these natural long lashes. I have to wear false ones to get this look. Don't blink."

"I'm trying not to."

A few minutes later Flora moves on to my lips. Applying lip-liner, she says, "You really think Todd is the one who got onto Pharrell's property and took  those pictures?"

I can't answer her until she's finished. "I know how far-fetched it sounds. If he's really here, why didn't he just take a shot? He had the perfect opportunity. Why take pictures? But look at how it was done, Flora. Since when do paparazzi know how to circumvent secure perimeters? Since when do paparazzi poison dogs? And there's the fact that I didn't hear a thing up there, and I should have, unless the guy knew how to move silently. Yeah the kids were noisy, but I still should have heard  _something."_  I shake my head. "Maybe my senses have been dulled since I'm not using them like I usually do. I don't know. But I  _do_  know this has Todd all over it. I only wish I'd realized it right away, as soon as I learned about it. He's probably long gone now."

Flora quickly applies lipstick to my lips and blots it with a piece of tissue. "From what Jared said, they haven't gotten far with the tabloid that first published the pics."

"Yeah. The tabloid got the pics from an anonymous source using a..." I trail off as I try to remember what Jared told me the police said. "I don't know what it's called, but it's something where the sender can't be traced. A computer thing."

"A VPN, probably," Flora nods as she plugs in a curling iron. "He uploaded them using a Virtual Private Network."

"Yeah, that's what he said. Someone sent the photos to them through a tip-line on their website using a VPN." I look down at my fingernails, now polished with a beautiful mauve color and looking nothing like my own. "So there was no money involved—which also makes me suspect Todd. Paparazzi would want a good payment for photos like those."

"You're right." Flora studies me, a worried look in her eyes. "If that's what the investigation's turning up, I think you have good reason to suspect your ex. What I don't get is why he'd do something like that. What would he gain from it?"

"That's what I'd like to know," I answer.

"If it was Todd, what if he's still around, waiting for a chance to get to you and Shelby?" Flora begins combing my hair. "God, Lanie. From what I've heard about him back home, he's crazy and he's liable to do anything."

"Gene and David are escorting us to Bouchon. Jimmy's called in a few more guys to guard the property, and Shelby's going to be at Jimmy's house while we're gone." I wring my hands as nerves once more threaten to consume me. "As much as I don't want to, and as much as Jared doesn't want to, we have to go to this meeting. But just between you and me—" my smile is grim— "I'll be armed."

Flora begins curling my hair, her lips tight, and that worried look in her dark eyes intensifies. "Does Jared know?"

"No. I don't want him to know, either."

"Jesus," she says softly. "I don't like this, Lanie. I really don't like this at all."

While Flora's working on making me look like someone who'd belong with the beautiful people who frequent a place like Bouchon, Jared's in the studio giving an interview to a reporter from  _Vanity Fair._ Looking at my phone, I realize the interview has run well over the allotted time it was supposed to. It's five-thirty and because of the constant congestion of L.A. traffic, we need to leave by six to get to the restaurant by seven.  _Good thing men don't have to go through the shit women do to get ready,_ I think with a touch of annoyance. Then at last voices echo down the hall asCarrie shows the reporter out.

"Go knock his socks off," Flora tells me with a grin, erasing some of the concern in her eyes. "I can't wait to see his face when he sees you dressed up like a real girl."

I throw her a withering look. "Sure. If I don't break my ankles walking in these ridiculous heels first."

"Just remember—heel-toe, smaller steps, lean back just a little bit," Flora instructs as she rearranges a few of the loose curls and gives me a final once-over.

"My feet already hurt and I've only worn these things for an hour," I complain. "Beauty is pain? Fuck that. I'd rather be ugly and comfortable."

Flora rolls her eyes. "Lanie, you're incapable of ugly. Now come on and let's show you off." She ushers me out my bedroom door and reluctantly, carefully, I follow her, praying I make it intact.

 

***

 

Of course Jared's ready in record time. A quick shower, and then dressing in a gorgeous if not quite conventional outfit of a paisley print jacket and pants, a purple silk shirt and loosely knotted, faux-leather tie. Pairing this with old-fashioned blue wingtip shoes, his hair left loose and messy, his beard wild and untrimmed, he cuts a look that's decidedly unique, decidedly outlandish, and decidedly his own. He's stunning.

It's almost enough to make me forget what this is about, but only almost. My nerves are frayed, and the wary, worried look in Jared's eyes are a visible reflection of them. Still, his hand holds mine firmly, a gesture of reassurance and comfort as we settle ourselves in the back of the rented black sedan, David behind the wheel and Gene riding shotgun. 

We don't speak much on the trip into the heart of Beverly Hills. My thoughts are drifting between what's in store tonight, and my dark suspicions about the so-called paparazzi incident. A glance at Jared tells me he's probably thinking about the same things as I am, but he says nothing about it. Instead he gazes out the window at the evening traffic, silent and remote. He's tense. Very tense. I can feel it through his hand in mine, now offering little in the way of reassurance.

We arrive at five minutes before seven. Gene gets out first, and Jared speaks to me for the first time.

"You ready for this?" he murmurs, glancing out his window.

Following his gaze, I look at the few people outside of the restaurant. Paparazzi have a certain look, a certain way of holding themselves, and among the well dressed people chatting among themselves and smoking cigarettes, it isn't difficult to spot them. There's only two, not the mob I half-expected. I clutch the strap of my purse in one hand and Jared's in the other. "As ready as I can be."

As David turns off the car Jared instructs, "Head down, eyes straight ahead. Don't acknowledge them, no matter what they say or ask. Pretend like they're not even there."

"Okay." I take a deep breath, Gene opens the door and we get out. David exits the car and is quickly at our side as well, and they go into instant defense mode as the pair of paparazzi spring into action. They can block many of the photographs, but they can't block the questions.

"Who's your date, Jared?"

"Is she the same woman you were having sex with in your pool, Jared?"

"What's your name, Miss? Is the little girl your child?"

"Weren't you previously aware that Jared has a girlfriend?"

"Katia Valkov is here with her father. Are the two of you joining them?"

We make our way to the restaurant door, leaving the pap behind, and we slip inside.

"Well. That wasn't too bad," Jared observes, and immediately we're approached by a snobbish-looking and stoic-faced older gentleman in a black suit. 

 _"Monsieur_  Leto," the maitre-d greets Jared. He barely gives me a glance, giving Jared his full attention. There's a hint of amusement in the man's eyes, undoubtedly because of Jared's wildly colorful outfit, but he's all business. _"Bonne soirée. Suivez-moi."_

 _"Merci,"_ Jared murmurs in response, and we follow the man through the elegant dining room. I look around at the pristine white tablecloths, the crystal chandeliers twinkling overhead, the lit candles at the tables, at the impeccably groomed waiters darting here and there, balancing trays and speaking French in low voices with the elegantly dressed diners. It's by far the fanciest restaurant I've ever seen in person, and I frantically remember Flora's instructions about how to walk gracefully in these wretched heels, what forks and spoons are supposed to go with what foods, and how to properly sit with good posture instead of my usual elbows-on-the-table slouch.

The maitre d leads us into another, smaller dining room. Only a half dozen tables are in here, all of them occupied. We follow him to the corner table where a tall man with dark hair just starting to gray sits with his back to us. The chair next to him and the two chairs against the wall are vacant.  _So that's Ivan Valkov._   _Where's Katia?_

My heart starts thumping so loud I can hear it in my ears and my mouth feels more dry with every step closer we take. My hands are shaking, and my purse, already heavy with the Max in it, feels like it weighs a ton.

Jared shoots me a look.  _Calm down,_  his blue eyes say, and I make a concerted effort to do just that, even though he looks as apprehensive as I feel.

The maitre d touches the man's shoulder. He turns, setting down his wine glass, and I am face to face with Ivan Valkov for the first time.

"Jared," he greets as he gets to his feet. "Good of you to join us." He puts out his hand.

Jared keeps his hand in mine, and the other at his side, staring back at the taller man unblinkingly. "Valkov," he says, his tone curt.

Ivan withdraws his hand, a crooked smile at his lips. Then his green eyes flit to me, and for the first time I know what that old cliche about a man undressing a woman with his eyes means. His gaze crawls avidly over me and it's all I can do not to cringe.

Ivan chuckles. "Are you going to introduce me to your friend?" he asks.

"Where's Katia?" Jared counters, ignoring the question.

"She had to take a phone call," Ivan explains. "Please, both of you. Sit." He gestures at the two chairs in the corner. We take our seats, and I set my purse in my lap.

 _"Votre serveur sera présent à vous immédiatement,"_ the maitre d informs us, and discreetly leaves the room.

"Wine?" Ivan offers, his eyes on me. "I know Jared doesn't drink alcohol."

"No, thank you," I decline. "I don't drink, either."

"Hm. Pity. It's an excellent vintage," Ivan muses as he lifts his glass and studies the contents.

"I'd like for us to cut the polite bullshit and get on with this," Jared says. He looks up as Katia enters the room, sliding her phone into her tiny evening bag. She's gorgeously dressed in a floor-length cream-colored dress, her hair done in a casual upsweep with tendrils framing her exquisite face. She's utterly breathtaking, and I just bet it took her half the effort that it took to get me presentable.

"My God," she says as she arrives at the table and slips into her seat. "Jared, you look completely   _ridiculous."_

"I'll be sure to let Lallo know you think so," Jared retorts smoothly. "It's his design, his ensemble, and will be featured in Gucci's spring collection."

Katia's eyes blaze and her lips thin. Then she turns her attention to me, looking me over closely with a puzzled frown. Then her expression clears. "Oh. It  _is_  you. How remarkable. I didn't recognize you at first. You look like you almost belong in a place like this."

"Almost," I retort lightly. Under the table my hands grip the strap of my purse and my nails dig into my palms.

"Katia, please," Ivan chides her. "Jared and this young lady are our guests this evening and we have much to discuss. Do refrain from such cattiness."

Katia assumes a contrite expression. "My apologies, Papa."

A waiter appears with menus, and another fills our water glasses. I sip my water, careful to keep my movements smooth and graceful, and my elbows off the table. Then I focus on the menu.

Just as I'd been told, the entire thing is in French. And oh, Jesus, there are no prices. I frown, wondering who's picking up the tab for this dinner, and then I sense eyes on me. I glance up. Katia's staring straight back at me, a kind of glee in her expression.

"Oh, honey. Do you need help? I can translate for you," she says, her voice laced with patronizing mockery.

I give her a smile. "Thank you, but I think I can manage."

Jared sets down his menu with a sigh. "As I told your father, I'd like to cut the bullshit and get on with this." His voice matches his face—irritated. "We all know why we're here, and it's not for a friendly dinner, because we're  _not_  friends. You say you have something for me. I know what you want  _from_  me, and I think I've made it very clear where I stand with that. So let's get it all out on the table."

Ivan chuckles. "Jared, Jared. So eager. Dinner first. I insist. And then we'll talk." For a split second his eyes flit to me, but even in that quick glance the look in them makes my skin crawl. "And who knows? Perhaps we can come to some other...agreement."

The waiter returns to our table to take our order. Ivan and Katia give theirs first. Their Russian accents make their French a bit difficult for me to understand, but the waiter seems to get the gist of it, nodding and saying  _"Bon choix"._

Then it's my turn. Once more Katia's eyes are on me, and she again offers her assistance, her voice dripping with condescension.

Ignoring her, I give the waiter my most charming smile.  _"J'aimerais que le potiron et pomme soupe, une salade niçoise avec des avocats et végétalien coq au vin, s'il vous plaît."_

Katia's smile freezes on her face. I gesture at Jared, adding, " _Il aura la même chose."_

"Your French is very good. How interesting," Katia says frigidly. "I assumed..."

"Yeah, well, you know what they say about assuming," I murmur, and sip my water. Setting the goblet on the table, I glance at Jared and Ivan. "Excuse me. I'm going to the ladies room to freshen up." Both men stand when I do. It's the first time I've ever seen men do that outside of a movie.

I find the ladies room and am a little disconcerted at the sight of a tired-looking middle-aged woman in there, sitting on a stool in the corner, a tip cup on the counter next to her. I'd hoped for privacy to call home and check on Shelby, and Flora to let her know that I haven't strangled or shot anyone. Yet.

I give the bathroom attendant a polite but no-eye-contact smile and study my reflection in the mirror. I have to admit Flora did a hell of a job. Somehow, she knew how to bring out my best features—my eyes—and flatter the rest of them. My hair doesn't even look like my own, with the loose curls framing my face and tumbling over my shoulders and down my back.

My dress does look very good on me, with a very low back, a semi-daring neckline in the front that makes my boobs seem bigger than they are, and it's short enough to show off plenty of leg. But the way Ivan has been looking at me, I wish it covered more. A lot more.

I touch up my lipstick and then get out my phone. I compose texts to Shelby and to Flora, just hitting send to the latter when the restroom door bursts open, making the attendant and I both start, and Katia strides in.

My insides give a jolt as I consider all the possible ways being in the ladies room with her alone could go horribly wrong. For approximately five seconds I think about my Max in my purse and how this could all come to a glorious, Katia's-brains-all-over-the-walls end. Then I pull myself together as my phone pings with a return text from Shelby. I smile at her message.

_We're watching Frozen. For like the 20th time. Ty's in love with Elsa, I swear._

"So," Katia begins, studying her flawless face in the mirror. "You'll have to tell me how you managed to meet, fuck, work for,  _and_  get Jared to let you and your kid actually move in with him." She digs a tweezers out of her bag and, leaning in close to the mirror, plucks out a single eyebrow hair.

Subtlety obviously isn't Katia's strong suit. Nor is it mine, and I can be catty with the best of them. Touching up my hair with a travel-sized bottle of spritz, I remark, "I can guarantee it wasn't the same way that you met and fucked him. I didn't need to have a rich father set it up for me."

The restroom attendant is arranging hand towels on a shelf, but I'm sure she's hanging on every word of this exchange. In the mirror, Katia's eyes dart to mine, and there's anger swirling in them. I turn to leave the restroom, but her voice stops me just as I have my hand on the doorknob.

"You love him, don't you."

I consider several replies, but before I can articulate any of them, Katia continues, "I don't care if you love him or not. I don't care that the two of you are playing happy little family with your kid. What I care about is the same thing you should care about—Jared sticking with our agreement."

"Why the hell should  _I_ want him to do that?"

Katia's patronizing smile is back. "Because of what will happen if he doesn't." She puts her tweezers back in the bag. "As you're about to find out, Papa and I can destroy his career." Her tone is almost offhand, as if we're discussing the weather. "Really, there's no reason for you to get so upset about it. After all, it's a only a few regular appearances together in public, attending the Awards Season events, places you wouldn't fit in at, anyway. It's not like we'll be fucking..." she trails off, and then adds with a grin, "that much."

"Yeah. Good luck getting him to go along with  _that,"_  I say with a confidence I'm far from feeling. For good measure and desperate to save face, I force a laugh.

By now the restroom attendant isn't even bothering to pretend she's busy. Her eyes dart between Katia and me, probably expecting a catfight of epic proportions to break out at any moment.

"Oh, he'll agree," Katia waves a hand in a shooing gesture as if I'm nothing more than a mere annoyance of little consequence. Which in her view, I probably am. "And as for you, Miss Nameless Nobody? We'll see how much you still love him by the end of the night."

 

***

 

When I return to the table, Jared's eyes meet mine and in them is an unspoken question.  _What happened?_

I avoid his eyes because I don't want him to see what the encounter with Katia did to me. I don't want him to know the effect her words have had. I want to stay strong and able to handle her, because if I'm not, I'll be nothing more than another burden on his shoulders. Hell, tonight has made me feel like that's what I am already. No need to make it worse.

Katia returns soon after, and she gives me a benign smile as she sits and sips her wine. I wonder what was exchanged between Jared and Ivan while I was gone, but I'm not going to ask. It was something, though, because Jared's more uptight than ever.

I glance around at the other diners. Most of them are couples. Sitting close, holding hands, sharing desserts, exchanging intimate looks and words. Can I ever look forward to a time when Jared and I will be able to do that? Or, because of who he is, are we never going to experience what these other people, and what I've always taken for granted?

More stiff conversation, and then our dinner arrives. While the food's delicious, I pick at it disinterestedly. My appetite has been drowned by apprehension, by the desire to get this night over with, by Katia's abrasiveness and Ivan's lecherous stares.

We politely decline dessert, and once our dishes are cleared from the table, Jared wastes no more time.

"We've sat here for an hour and a half and made nicey-nice conversation. I've put up with the jabs and innuendoes, my girlfriend has put up with the insults and you staring at her as if she's your dessert, Valkov. So let's get down to why we're really here."

"Very well," Ivan says, and he and Katia exchange a glance before he reaches under the table, pulling up a black briefcase I didn't even know he had with him. Moving his wine glass aside, he lays the case on the table and snaps it open.

On top of its contents is a manila envelope, its flap sealed closed. Ivan removes it as well as some sets of papers stapled together. Holding the envelope, he fixes his gaze on Jared. "I made sure to have the two of you seated against the wall tonight. It wouldn't do for anyone passing by to get a look at these. After you see them, I'm sure you'll agree with me." He hands the envelope to Jared and sits back, a strange little smile on his face.

My heart's racing.  _It's photos,_ I think with sickening realization. Photos Jared doesn't want anyone to see. As he slowly unseals the envelope, his eyes meet mine, and it's then that I suspect Ivan and Katia Valkov have Jared Leto right where they want him.

Jared pulls out the contents of the envelope. There's a sharp intake of breath, and his face goes parchment-white. Slowly, he goes through each of the five pictures, his face growing even paler. His lips are so thin they've nearly disappeared, and his hands begin to tremble. "Oh, my God," he whispers at last. This earns another chuckle from Ivan.

"What is it, Jared?" I ask softly, fear clutching at my heart. "What  _are_  they?"

Ivan beams and he gestures at me. "Let her see them, Jared. Let her see who you really are."

Jared's lifts his eyes, and there's a sudden wetness in them. "You sick fuck." His voice is a lethal hiss. "Both of you are sick fucks."

"Show her," Ivan orders sharply, all traces of indulgent humor gone.  But at his side, Katia's smile is wide, triumphant.

Jared shakes his head. "No. She doesn't need to see them."

There's dazed hurt, shock and anger in Jared's expression and it rips me into pieces because I know what defeat looks like. I saw it in my own face a number of times before leaving Todd. Still, I hold my hand out. "Jared, let me see them," I insist. "Whatever it is. It's why I'm here. It's why we're both here."

"I...it was a long time ago, and..." Jared's voice breaks, he closes his eyes and hands me the photographs.

As I look at them, the world seems to freeze, and then grow distant and somehow hollow. The photos are not the murky shots taken in darkness like those of Jared and me in the pool. These are crisp and clear images, missing nothing of what's taking place between the two naked men in a hotel room—one is unmistakably Jared, the other is a very good-looking man I don't recognize.

From what seems like a great distance, I hear Katia argue, "Oh, it wasn't so long ago, darling. 2009, 2010, wasn't it?"

I don't even know what to think or how to react, so I don't. I place the photos face down on the table, fighting an overwhelming sense of helplessness amid waves of nausea and hatred that threaten to consume me. I'd expected something, but not this. Nothing like this.

"How did you get them?" Jared asks hoarsely.

"How do you  _think_  I got them?" Katia laughs. She's enjoying every second, and never in my life have I hated anyone like I hate her right now.

"Kristov wouldn't give them to you," Jared hisses. "He'd lose more than I would if this got out. His father—"

"That's...that's Kristov?" I murmur, my voice tiny. The three of them ignore me, but then, I'm not even certain I spoke out loud. Nothing seems real anymore.

"Kristov has left Russia permanently," Ivan explains. "He and Katia are divorced, and her possession of these photographs was part of their divorce agreement. Due to ill health, Kristov's father is no longer one of Putin's officials. He resigned three months ago, and Kristov came to America to live. So you see, Kristov now has nothing to lose. In fact," he grins, "These photos getting out would probably do wonders for him while he builds his career in the United States. Unfortunately, Jared, we all know they'd do the opposite for you."

Jared swallows hard. His face is still pale, still shocked, and still furious. "What do you want? Awards Season, Katia getting the lead in the Liz Moore film, the press tour, the premiere. I got all that. But before we reach an agreement I want everything laid out, and I want it all in writing."

Ice creeps through my veins as I fully realize what's going on. He's capitulating to them. "Jared, no..." I whisper, as the frigid numbness reaches around and envelops me.

Katia shoots me another triumphant grin. Ivan actually gives me a look of pity. But for Jared, it's like I'm not at the table, in the room, or even on the fucking planet anymore. He leans forward and fixes both Katia and Ivan with an intense, unblinking stare. "So, let's talk details."


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

It's funny how an hour, a minute, even a second can change everything, isn't it? Everything about a person. Everything about who you think that person is. In an instant, everything can come crashing down. Truth is, a relationship rests on a delicate, razor-thin balance. It can tip over at any time, for any reason, and suddenly someone you thought you knew becomes a stranger.

It's happened to me before. The first time Todd struck out at me physically, I remember laying dazed on the floor, my head ringing from the blow. I remember looking up through a red haze at Todd bent over and screaming at me. I remember the heart-wrenching sound of Shelby across the room crying. That fight had started like many others before it, lasting all of fifteen seconds, but this one didn't end with a few choice words and silence.  _This_ fifteen seconds changed everything.

Now it's happening again. The man I've come to love with all my heart is changing before my eyes. He's not the Jared I woke up with this morning. He's not the Jared who held my hand and assured me that no matter what Katia and Ivan had on him, he wouldn't continue with the dating arrangement. He doesn't even look like the same man anymore. He's somebody else now.

Without a word, I rise from my chair. Without a word, I leave the table. 

I feel their eyes on my back as I cross the room, but I don't hear what I'm praying to hear—and what part of me is also dreading to hear. Jared doesn't call after me.

I'm sure Katia is gloating right now, but I no longer care. I cut my way around the tables and waiters, breezing past the stoic-faced maitre d. I push the uniformed doorman aside and shove the door open myself, stepping out into the night.

The two paparazzi have been joined by several others. They leap into position instantly, firing their questions one after the other, punctuated by the click-click-click of their cameras and exploding flash bulbs.

Gene and David are suddenly there, surrounding me, shielding me. Doing the job that they shouldn't have to be doing. I'm Lanie McCarty, a thirty-two year old wilderness survivalist and EMT from Northern Minnesota who somehow has found herself standing outside of a fancy French restaurant in Beverly Hills, California, wearing a designer dress and high heels, clutching a two-hundred dollar bag with a .357 Max tucked inside it, surrounded by two bodyguards and a half a dozen paparazzi yelling questions and vying for position to get a clear shot.

I want to laugh, to cry, to scream.

I do none of these. Instead, I reach out and grab the camera of the nearest pap, yanking it out of his surprised hands. Detached, I watch myself hurl it to the sidewalk where it smashes into pieces. Then I shove David and Gene aside, give the angry and protesting photographer a push into another pap. I kick off the hated heels and break free of the crowd of bystanders beginning to gather.

In my bare feet I hurry away, clutching my bag. I have no idea where I'm going, but I'm not getting there as fast as I want to. I'm hampered by the skirt and my vision that's blurred with tears.

A rumble of thunder overhead reverberates through me, a melodrama from the skies matching the storm inside myself. The first patter of raindrops strikes my face, and they somehow seem to snap me out of it. I slow down, as the cloak of unreality begins to slide away.

I come to a stop, looking around as the rain falls a little harder. I've left the restaurant and Jared a couple of blocks away. I'm standing here in a cocktail dress and bare feet, crying, my makeup and hair getting ruined, acutely aware and yet uncaring that I'm receiving curious glances from passers-by.

A bus stop is just ahead at the corner. I walk over to it and sit, clutching my purse in my lap, bent over it as if suffering some awful internal pain.

Which, of course, I am.

Another loud clap of thunder reverberates through me, and the rain begins in earnest. With vague interest I watch as people hurry to take shelter from the sudden storm. It's just water...what are they so afraid of?

I don't know how long I sit there. Five minutes? Fifteen? An hour? I don't know, and I don't care.

"Lanie."

He speaks my name amid the pattering of raindrops, the rumbles of thunder now accompanied by lightning streaking across the sky, the sound of car tires whizzing by on the wet pavement. There's a light touch on my shoulder. "Lanie, you're getting soaked. Come on."

"It's just water," I say softly as I look up at him. But the water has turned inexplicably salty. "Leave me alone, Jared. Go back to her."

He stands in front of me, almost in the street. He shakes his head, his hair beginning to cling to his face and beard in damp tendrils. "No, Lanie. We're going to talk this out." He looks around, at the storm beginning to gather strength as the wind picks up. Then his eyes return to mine. "If that means we talk it out here in the pouring rain, so be it." I stare at him, grateful that the rain is hiding my tears. He stares back, those living jewels boring into me. Finally, he shakes his head again. "You know, I prayed you'd understand. I prayed you'd love me enough to accept me as I am. I can't believe how much of a fool I was to pray for that."

 _"Understand?"_ I let out a sharp sound that's half-laugh, half-sob. "There's nothing to understand about this, Jared.  _Nothing._ " I stand on quivering legs, my eyes narrowed. "Go back to Katia. Go back and enjoy your  _'arrangement'_. Shelby and I will be gone first thing in the morning."

A sharp breath. "Lanie—" he stops and his chest moves up and down with a deep sigh. Combing his wet hair from his face, he nods. "Okay. Yeah, maybe that's best. I told you I'd hurt you, I have, and I'm sorry. But I can't change that part of myself, and if you can't accept that about me, then—" he lets out a ragged breath. 

Wiping the dampness from my face, I blink at him in surprise. "You seriously think  _that's_  what this is about? You think that I can't accept that you've had sex with a guy? Maybe multiple other guys? You think that I can't accept that you're bisexual, or pansexual or  _whatever-_ sexual? You think that I find it wrong, or disgusting, that I find  _you_  disgusting? Are you fucking  _kidding_  me?" I grab my purse and begin walking back the way I came.

He catches up to me quickly, grabbing my arm. "You don't?"

"No!" I yank my arm from his grasp. "For Christ's sake, are you that dense?" I walk faster. "No. It's  _not_  that. It's you caving into them. Into Katia's demands. Into Ivan's threats, when you promised me no matter what they they had, you  _wouldn't_. But just like that—" I snap my fingers— "you're their lap-dog all over again. You're Katia's celebrity  _whore_  again.  _That's_  what this is about."

Jared's lips form a tight, thin line. "When I made that promise to you, I didn't have a clue they'd gotten their hands on those pictures. I can't let those photos get out, Lanie. I  _can't."_

"Oh, God. It's 2017. Being gay or bi or whatever isn't a big deal anymore. Who's going to give a rat's ass these days?" I attempt a laugh, but it sounds hollow and forced. "If anything, there's probably a good segment of your fangirls who'd get off on those pictures, not to mention gay guys in the Echelon who'd be thrilled to know this about you." I stumble over a crack in the sidewalk and Jared automatically grabs me. Again, I yank myself away from him and keep walking, reaching the corner where the light's red. I stand stiffly, watching the passing traffic as another flash of lightning illuminates the night sky above. There's another clap of thunder, and the rain continues to pelt us as we wait at the intersection for the walk sign. My bare feet are killing me, and I think I stubbed my toe back there. I hide the pain behind a rigid expression.

"I'm not in the position to take that risk," he says, wiping the rain from his face. "You don't get it, Lanie. It's not only me. It's my brother. It's Tomo. It's Stevie. It's you and Shelby. It's  _everyone_ who'd be affected." He pauses. "And yeah. It's Kristov, too. No matter what happened between us, no matter what Ivan said to the contrary, I'm not going to risk hurting him. He could lose even more than me."

The light turns green. I glance at Jared walking swiftly by my side as we cross the street. "You cared about him, didn't you. Whatever it was between you, it wasn't just a sexual experimentation or something. There were feelings involved."

Jared doesn't look at me, and at first I think he's not going to answer me. He glances around him, at the people still taking shelter from the rain. Then, softly, he replies, "Yeah, there were feelings involved. A lot of feelings." He reaches for my hand as we reach the corner and step onto the sidewalk. Lightning flashes in his eyes as he pulls me to a stop, turning me to face him.

"This arrangement with Katia is a small price to pay, Lanie," he says in a near-whisper, the surrounding city noise and the rain and the thunder and the heavy thudding in my chest almost drowning out his words. "And I've asked them to give me two weeks, until the EMA's in London on November twelfth."

"So...she'll be going with you to London." My voice is flat, devoid entirely of emotion.

"Not  _with_  me, but she'll be London for the event, yeah," he affirms. "I don't know about Spain and France. We haven't discussed that. But I'll be gone for ten days." He pauses and peers at me intently. "Lanie, it's just appearances, just red carpet bullshit. It's not  _real._  You  _know_  that. For God's sake, you have to realize by now how much I  _hate_ that woman."

 _Just appearances. Really?_  I swallow hard, remembering Katia's snide words in the ladies room.  _We won't be fucking....that much._

And Jared's words echo in my head as well.  _Sex for you and sex for me don't mean the same thing._ Does the fact that he hates the woman he's most likely going to be screwing somehow make it better, make it all a-okay? In his mind, it probably does. Being Katia Valkov's personal whore is a means to an end for them both, and his end is protecting himself and his precious fucking image, his film and music careers, that of his bandmates, and finally, his ex-lover. Whatever else and whoever else it costs him.

Jared grips my hand tightly. "I want to take these next two weeks and spend them with you. Mom's back from the east coast. She can come stay with Shelby and we can take off and go somewhere. No phones, no computers, no assistants, no anyone else. Just you and me. Please, Lanie, give us this time. Please, say yes." With his other hand, Jared reaches out and his fingers comb the wet hair from my face. I stand still, allowing his gentle touch in spite of myself, allowing him to reach inside me to that place that's his and his alone. God, how I hate that he makes me so damn weak, so damn easily.

From the corner of my eye, I see the rented black sedan approaching us. I draw a shaking breath. "Jared, this—this isn't—"

"I love you." His eyes are wide, pleading, his voice breaks and I know it's not only rain dripping from his face onto his ruined purple silk shirt and beautiful suit. "Lanie, I love you, and you love me. Let's not walk away from what we have. Not over something like this."

My own tears double my vision. "You've already walked away, Jared. The minute you caved in to Katia and Ivan Valkov, you let us go." I step away from him and watch the car now pulling up to the curb next to us. "I'll go back with you to the compound tonight, but Shelby and I are leaving first thing in the morning."

 

***

 

Damn me, I love him. I still love him—on that, Katia was dead wrong. The secret that the photos revealed did nothing to kill that love. Jared came into my life in 2003, leaving an imprint then, and he's left another huge imprint now. I'll feel the weight of that until my dying day. But it's not enough, and that knowledge breaks me. I should've known from the start that ours was a relationship doomed. We're no more on the same level now as we were when he was thirty-one and I was eighteen.

Once home, I go to my room and peel off my wet dress. It's undoubtedly ruined. I kick it into a corner of the bathroom.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. God, I look like hell. Whatever makeup wasn't obliterated by the rain is streaked all over my face. My hair hangs in limp chunks. My eyes are red and puffy, and dark with despair. I turn on the shower, wondering vaguely where Jared's gone to. He was as silent on the ride home as he was on the trip to the restaurant. Once inside the house I hurried to my bedroom and he didn't follow.

I step under the soothing hot needles of water, scrubbing myself thoroughly. I have a lot to do, and sleep probably isn't going to happen tonight. I have to pack my things, pack Shelby's things, and then wake her and somehow, find a way to explain our sudden departure.

Oh, God. Shelby's going to be devastated.

Who am I kidding? She'll be more than devastated. She's going to hate me. I grit my teeth through that thought. 

She'll get over it, I assure myself. Once before I allowed myself to stay somewhere I shouldn't have, allowed myself to be manipulated because of Shelby, and I can't do that again. I have to be strong. She'll bounce back. She's a smart kid, and she's tough. Resilient. Like her mom.

I dress in one of my old t-shirts and jeans, going through my things to locate and pack only that which I've brought with me. It's a ten-minute job, and once I'm finished I set off for Shelby's tower to do the same with her things.

"Lanie," Jared speaks behind me as I'm about to enter the tower. I turn and there he is, standing there looking at me, his face etched in desolation, anger, and resignation all at the same time. "Please don't do this."

"I have to do this," I respond, keeping my voice low and level.

He stares back unflinchingly as he walks toward me. "I can't stop you from going, and I won't try to. But please let Shelby stay here."

 _"What?"_ My hands tighten at my sides, clenching into fists. "She's  _my_  kid, Jared. Where I go, she goes."

His eyes burn into mine. "Where? To Mexico? Back to your burned-out property in Minnesota? Somewhere else that your ex can easily find you, hurt or even  _kill_  you? Huh? Where do you think you're gonna take that little girl where she can be safe?" He's very close to me now, eyes narrowed, and any essence of desolation, of impending loss, is gone. In its place is just that cold anger. "Shelby's happy here. She's fed, she's clothed, she's got pets, she's got school, and she's got friends and people around her who love her. She's got a normal life."

"A normal life," I scoff. "Paparazzi, bodyguards, cameras and security everywhere...you call this a  _normal life?"_

He presses me up against the wall. "I'm not going to allow you to risk her life, Lanie. Absolutely not. Go if you want, but you leave Shelby with me. She did nothing to deserve being yanked out of the life she's just gotten settled into!"

"You're not her father, Jared," I grit out. "You don't have any right—"

"Damn right I'm not her father. Her father is the sperm-donor asshole you were running from in Oak Creek Canyon. What I am, what I've been trying to be, and what Shelby sees me as, is her  _dad._  Someone I never had in my own life, someone I never thought I'd ever get a chance to be." His voice thickens. "Losing you is bad enough, Lanie. Losing both of you—I can't handle that."

"Then tell them no," I plead. "Tell Katia and Ivan  _no!"_

"I can't  _do_  that!" Jared's face is anguished. "Why can't you understand that I have no choice?"

"Then all of this doesn't mean shit, because  _you_  don't understand that you  _do_  have a choice." I wriggle away from him, intending to continue into the tower.

His voice behind me is low and somehow raw. "You're right, Lanie. I do have a choice. Ivan proposed an alternative."

My back goes rigid, and slowly I turn around again. "What alternative?"

Jared's eyes are like chips of ice. "When you and Katia were away from the table, Ivan proposed another arrangement. He'd keep what he had on me quiet. He'd finance the Liz Moore film, and other than the lead role, the press tour and the premiere,the deal with Katia would be null and void." He again steps close to me, his eyes never leaving mine. "He reiterated that offer after you left, promising then and there to give me the photos, the negatives, and a signed agreement stating that their existence will never be revealed."

The way he's looking at me sends a chill through my body. "Then...then for Christ's sake, Jared, why didn't you take it? What did he want in exchange for all of that?"

Jared's jaw clenches, and his eyes are once again cold. A flurry of emotions cross his face—despair and rage the strongest among them. Right now, they're both consuming him.

"You, Lanie. He wanted you."

 

***

 

The storm in the sky is gone, rumbling its way to the east and leaving that unique scent of fresh green things behind. Even here in the semi-desert, rain has a way of breathing renewal into the world. It's the first rain I've experienced in California, and under any other circumstances I would be relishing the way the air now seems cleaner, lighter, and more like home.

After going to Jimmy's to fetch Shelby, making small talk about the rare thunderstorm, fending off her questions about our evening out, and mumbling excuses about why my eyes are red like I've been crying, I get her settled into bed. As I begin to leave her room, I spot her old pack shoved in the corner of her bedroom by the fireplace.

I could do it. I could pack her things, rouse her out of bed again, get my own pack and we could be gone in minutes. Jared's retreated someplace in the compound, either to the gym or the studio. Either way it might be hours before he realizes we're gone.

Gone where? And how? And with what money? And this is assuming Shelby won't raise holy hell as soon as she realizes what I'm doing—ripping her away from the place and the people she loves, and for reasons that have nothing whatsoever to do with her.

Again.

Last time, I took her from an unsafe, unhealthy environment. This time, I'd be ripping her away from the only place and the only people that have given her anything in the way of safety, security, and love.

I close my eyes tightly, leaning against her bedroom doorway. I stay there for several minutes, and then quietly I leave her room.

At first, my intention is to go to bed. I'm so emotionally overwhelmed, so full of confused thoughts and conflicting feelings that the last thing I want is to see Jared. But I take a left turn instead of a right, and soon I realize that I'm heading for the studio. As I draw closer, I hear the strains of an acoustic guitar, and Jared's beautiful voice accompanying it.

I pause. It's a song I've never before heard him play, and I quietly approach the open door. There, I stand outside the room where I can see him sitting on a stool, guitar in his lap and turned slightly away from me, and I let his music and his voice—so rich, so subtle yet full of meaning—fill me.

 

The last note falls from his fingers and drifts off, reverberating quietly until it's gone. Then Jared turns slightly and sets his guitar in the stand next to him. His shoulders slump, he buries his face in his hands, and he lets out a long, shuddering breath.

I step inside the room and silently make my way to where he's sitting. Without saying a word, I touch one of his hands.

Jared looks up, and his eyes are red-rimmed and damp. "Lanie." He draws a quivering breath. "Why did you come down here?"

I don't answer. Instead, I close my arms around him and pull him to me. Jared reacts instantly, reaching for me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I press a kiss into his hair because I feel like he's on the verge of a goddamned breakdown and I don't know what else to do. Just like when he has his nightmares, he's lost, he's scared, and I'm the one that fights his demons and keeps them from consuming him. Standing here and holding him like this, I've never felt so much pain radiating from another person before.

"I'm sorry." His voice is muffled. "I didn't mean for this to get so fucked up."

"I know." I stroke his hair as he slowly gets up from the stool. "I know you didn't. Come to bed, Jared. You need to sleep. It's late."

Jared glances around the studio, his eyes falling on the shelves of awards I put up. He looks at them for a long moment, and then follows me out of the room.

 


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

I gaze out my window at the blur of passing scenery, the well-built suspension of the big vehicle absorbing almost every bump in the long stretch of desert highway. Each turn of the wheels carries me further east, further away from Los Angeles, from Jared's home in the Hollywood Hills, from my daughter who even now is probably still sound asleep.

Last night was Halloween, and Shelby's slumber party went off without a hitch. I'm glad I hung around long enough to enjoy seeing her so happy and engaged with her friends. Late into the night after trick-or-treating and making a hell of a haul, she and three girl friends hung out in the tower watching scary movies, eating snacks, playing video games. They also sang karaoke—which Jared agreeably joined in on, to the girls' delight—and then the kids chased the kittens around before finally settling down for a long and late giggly night.

I bunch my thick hooded sweatshirt a little more and stuff it between my head and the window to use for a pillow. I hadn't intended on sleeping on the trip at all, but after an evening with the kids, a night of preparation and a pre-dawn departure, I'm tired. It's still very early in the morning, the sun just starting to lighten the sky ahead. It wasn't just last night's festivities with Shelby and her friends—sleep hasn't been in abundance the last few nights. It's catching up to me, and wearily I decide to give in to it if I can.

I don't even know where I'll be when I wake up. I don't particularly care, either. Wherever I end up, it's where I need to be. That's what I told Flora on the phone last night. And repeated to Constance when she arrived early this morning, an understandable look of worry in her eyes as she met me carrying my pack, loaded down with fresh provisions, to the front door.

It's not running away, I told Constance and Flora. It's  _getting_  away. There's a difference. 

By some miracle, Shelby understood. Or at least acted as though she understood. Maybe she was distracted by the imminent arrival of her guests and the prospect of celebrating Halloween in Hollywood. Whatever the case, she didn't make a fuss, and I'm grateful for it. Late last night, I pulled her aside, hugged her and said I'd see her soon. She hugged me back, we exchanged I love yous, and then she was back to mingling with her friends.

The rumble of the big tires on the blacktop lull me toward sleep and my eyelids obediently flutter closed. But my mind refuses to shut off so easily.

When Jared told me about Ivan Valkov's 'alternate proposal', I could tell this was something he'd never intended me to know about. And a part of me now wishes he hadn't told me. We never spoke of it; I was too angry, too overwhelmed and devastated by everything that had just happened to react right then. And Jared's fragile emotional state afterward made me hold my tongue. Instead, the subject hung in the air between us. Like a question that had no answer.

For a moment or two, I actually contemplate it. I won't lie, I do give it serious thought. Jared's throwing himself on a sword no matter the cost. If that means sleeping with Katia Valkov if she demands it, then that's the price he's willing to pay. Could I do the same, saving not only Jared but virtually removing Katia Valkov from his life? Would it be worth the tradeoff? Would Jared and I recover from it, the way he seems to think we can recover if— _when_ — he sleeps with Katia? And either way, can Ivan be trusted to keep his end of the bargain?

Why am I even asking those questions? Jared would never accept me giving myself to Ivan Valkov to settle their agreement and to keep those photos from getting out. He'll throw himself on the sword, no problem. He'll do whatever Katia wants, no question.

The hum of the engine, the little jostles and bumps lull me further toward sleep, and, though my mind is still a whirlwind of turbulence, of wondering if taking off was the right thing to do, my mind drifts away from the Valkov's as I slip into a semi-peaceful doze. Peaceful, because for the first time I'm no longer afraid of my ex-husband. At least not right now, and not for the immediate future.

Flora was the one to tell us about Todd's arrest. Her brother Fred, a deputy with Lake County back in Minnesota got word and got in contact with his sister immediately, who shared the news with us, her voice quivering with excitement as she told the story. I put my phone on speaker and then Jared and I sat stunned at how anticlimactic it all turned out to be. It's really kind of pathetic and strangely funny when I think about it.

It happened the night after the meeting at Bouchon. A broken tail light was all it took. Well, a broken tail light on an older model Pontiac driven by a known black-market gun dealer from Fresno, a fellow prepper named Anthony something-or-other. The feds had been trying to nail him for months. Part of Todd's network of militia buddies, Anthony is basically a coward at heart. When hauled in for questioning, this Anthony something-or-other sang like a bird, implicating Todd in the gun-running, giving Todd's whereabouts and telling all he knew about the incident at Pharrell William's.

Within hours Todd was apprehended where he was camping out near Venice Beach and a search of his few belongings revealed some heavy weaponry as well as evidence that he was planning to kidnap Shelby the following Halloween night. To my horror, Todd also had in his possession a worn, dog-eared notebook that, along with half-legible paranoid rants, contained more plans—plans for something big. Something very big, and very deadly.

Undoubtedly, Todd will get his attorney to play up on the fact that he has no prior criminal history, that he's a war vet suffering from PTSD, and he'll be granted bail. But first he has to be extradited back to Minnesota where he's facing some heavy charges of meth manufacturing and distribution as well as arson. It's doubtful the judge will be too sympathetic, depending on which one he gets.

 

***

 

When I awaken, I'm shocked to discover that first, I've been asleep for several hours—the sun is just past its zenith, so it's around around one in the afternoon by my reckoning. Second, the terrain I find myself surrounded by is wooded, mountainous, and unfamiliar. Huge pines flank the winding switchback highway, with sheer cliffs and more forest in the distance. I straighten up and look around, taking in the cooler, fresher, woods-scented air creeping in through Jared's slightly open driver's side window.

"Good morning," he says, glancing sideways at me. "It's about time, too. We're almost there. Another hour or so to go."

"Where's 'there'?" I ask, still trying to get my bearings. The scenery doesn't provide much in the way of a clue. We could be just about anywhere. Based on how long I was asleep, we're about six hours out of L.A. which could put us in northern California, Nevada, or Arizona.

Jared smiles, and the sight of it stirs a little flutter in me. Despite everything, I'm genuinely happy to see him smile. He seems relaxed for the first time in days, though I know his leg and back have been giving him trouble. It started the night he chased me down in the rain in Beverly Hills, and has been aggravating him since.

"Take a guess where we are," he answers. "And if you give up, just look at your phone." He nods at the console of his Bronco, where my phone sits charging."Or you can wait for a road sign to give you a clue."

I shoot him a grin and then pick up my phone. I open the locator app, and wait for it to load. When it does, I stare at it, open-mouthed. "We're...we're going back?" I raise my eyes and meet Jared's steady blue gaze.

"Yeah, Lanie. We are. We're going back." His right hand leaves the wheel, takes mine, and brings it to his lips. "Given everything that's happened, I can't think of where I'd rather be with you. So yeah. We're going back to The Healing Place."

 

***

 

It's a long hike by any standards from where we leave Jared's decked-out vintage Ford Bronco, resplendent with bright flames painted over the hood and sides—vulgar, I had pronounced the first time I ever saw it parked in his mammoth underground garage at the compound. In reply, Jared grinned and explained that it was a gift from Shannon, and the garish paint job is one reason why he loves it so much.

Jared parks the truck off the narrow two-track dirt road where it'll be more or less concealed, and we set off on foot down the same trail Shelby and I hiked toward the towering canyon wall. The same wall Jared had been trying to climb when he fell.

"No climbing," he agrees with me now as the wall comes into view. He's the type of guy that'll push himself, even more now that he's healing so quickly, but even Jared knows he's not ready for a return to rock-climbing. Besides, this trip isn't about that. This trip is about getting back to my comfort zone, back in nature. This trip is about healing. It's about Jared and I, each unwilling to let go of the other. It's a precious and vital piece of time we're giving ourselves because we both need it before Jared flies to London.

Though I no longer worry about Todd lurking around every bend in the trail or cluster of trees, making being here in Oak Creek Canyon fundamentally different than before, I carry my knife in my belt. Because we both need to carry protection from potential dangers—two-footed as well as four—my Max is tucked in Jared's pack which is significantly smaller than mine. He grumbled about me taking the lion's share of supplies on my back when we prepared for the trip, but he sees the wisdom in it. He knows his back and leg wouldn't handle it for long.

I glance over my shoulder at him. Under a wide-brimmed straw hat with a purple band on it, Jared's hair is tied back in a knot. He's wearing a black hoodie, red and white checkered track pants, and hiking boots. His limp is getting noticeable, and I slow down to wait for him.

"I'm walking too fast," I say apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine." But he grimaces a little. "Unless you want to go further, there's a spot I'd really like to check out for making camp. I was there when I was a kid, and I camped there the night before the accident." He points off to the right. "There's no trail to get in there though and the going's a little rough. I'll probably pay for it, too. But trust me, it really is worth it. Come on." Jared steers off the trail, past a huge boulder that must serve as a landmark for him to find the way to this place he wants us to go.

After hesitating a moment, I shrug and follow him, soon realizing Jared was right about the going being a little rough. It's rocky, it's filled with pits in the earth, roots sprouting from the ground threatening to leap up and trip a hiker. And there are a lot of rattlesnakes, given the long, narrow tracks their bodies leave in the open sandy areas of the ground. I've brought along plenty of CroFab, having replenished my supply, and this time I have a phone to use in case of emergencies, but still, the last thing either of us need is an encounter with one of these lethal diamondback rattlers. Especially Jared. While he fully recovered from the previous bite, it was a rough recovery and the fact remains that he nearly died. Very nearly.

No thanks to me leaving him there for hours as the venom worked through his system. As it always does when I think of it, my stomach cramps into a knot of self-recrimination and shame.

My thoughts are pulled away as I detect the sound of rushing water.  Jared's led us into a shadowy fissure carved out of the canyon wall, a narrowish passageway. We follow a tributary of the creek that undoubtedly is the creator of this hidden, almost cave-like structure. I look up at the towering red rock on either side of us, listen as the rushing water sound grows closer, echoing from the canyon walls, and then suddenly I know exactly what it is we're heading toward.

The twenty-foot high small but powerful waterfall bursts into view as we step around a cluster of huge boulders and mesquite trees heavy with brown pods, stepping out from the shadows of the narrow passage. The sun strikes the water blindingly bright, casting eldritch rainbows in the misty air.

"Oh, my God," I murmur, awestruck. It's absolutely breathtaking, one of the most beautiful natural places I've ever seen in my life. It seems unreal and magical, almost like something out of a Tolkien novel. Any minute I expect to spot elven creatures scurrying about among the rocks and small trees flanking the waterfall.

Jared stands very close to me and works his hand between my body and my pack to slip an arm around my waist. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"We have to camp here," is all I manage to say.

"I knew you would say that," he answers with a smile.

 

***

 

I get a shelter put together very quickly. Nothing as big as the one Shelby and I built, though. This one is little more than a pup tent in size and shape, cozy, made mostly of thin flexible branches of willow and pine, supported by thicker branches of oak. Armloads of tall dry grasses cushion the hard ground to make sleeping a little more comfortable.

Meanwhile, Jared sits on the ground near the pool at the base of the waterfall, just out of the reach of the spray from it. He's trying to get the hang of my fireboard and spindle. I give him pointers as I work, and eventually, after several failed attempts, he exclaims in triumph as the dried kindling begins to spark, smoulder, and eventually a flame appears.

I've brought along enough food that we needn't worry about relying on fish or—worse—clams for sustenance. Our chief protein source is the dehydrated seitan I'd experimented with awhile back, trying to make a kind of jerky with it. While it's nowhere close to the real thing, I've seasoned it until it's tasty enough and best of all, it's virtually non-perishable and easily portable. The wild grapes are long out of season, and the mesquite pods are almost past the point of edibility. The puffball mushrooms are now shriveled brown smokebombs dotting the countryside. Prickly pear is one wild food source in abundance this time of year, and I've grabbed all I could find on our trek, nursing a few painful barbs embedded in my hands as a result.

As the sun creeps down, Jared and I sit together at the fire, chewing the tough seitan jerky and sharing a bottle of water. His hand in mine is warm and firm. Eventually, I lay my head in my favorite place— the crook of Jared's shoulder, where I can hear his beating heart. "Thank you," I murmur.

"For what?" He places a gentle kiss on my head.

"For not letting me do this alone."

A heavy sigh. "I know you wanted to leave days ago, Lanie. I know you said Shelby's the reason you didn't, and I'm sure that's a big part of it, but I'd like to think that there was more that held you there. I'd like to think you want to try to get through this together as much as I do, and that's why we're both here."

I nod against his shoulder. "You're right." I stare into the flames another moment. I listen as the sounds of nightfall fill the air. Crickets, night birds, the quiet rustle of the trees as the desert breeze trickles down into the canyon. I listen as I summon my courage before I speak again.

"Jared, I want you to tell me about Kristov."

He doesn't stiffen the way I expect him to, but I detect something, a kind of reluctance in him nonetheless. It might be the way he catches his breath, or it might be the way I feel and hear his heart speed up just a little at my words. "Did you love him?" I ask.

I feel Jared swallow hard, hear the dry click in his throat. He brings the water bottle to his lips and drinks as I sit up and look at him. His eyes are on me as he pulls the bottle away and sets it down. "Did I love him? That's a complicated question, with a very complicated answer. He was a good friend."

"I don't mean that kind of love. I mean—"

"I know what you mean," Jared says. "Did I love him as in, was I in love with him? I was, yeah.  Very much so. Which is why everything got fucked up."

"Because you had sex," I say quietly.

Jared looks away. I reach out and touch his cheek, turning him to face me again. With the firelight dancing in his eyes, it's hard to read his emotions clearly. "Right?"

His jaw works, his eyes narrow, but he nods. "It was more than that. It was the situation." He passes a hand over his face. "My relationship with Kristov is not something I've ever really spoken about, for obvious reasons."

I nod. Of course it isn't. "You can tell me," I say. "I  _want_  you to tell me."

Jared picks up the water bottle again. Studying the firelight reflecting off of its plastic surface, he sighs. "It's all in the past, and that's where it needs to stay, but—" he breaks off and sighs again. "But I guess I owe it to you to tell you how I got to where I am now. Not just with Ivan and Katia, but with me. Because that does affect you."

I don't say anything to this, but I take his hand in mine again, in that simple gesture telling him that it's okay—whatever he has to tell me, I'm here, I'm listening, and that speaks louder than any words I can say.

 

***

 

 _The video for_ Hurricane  _was one of the most ambitious music videos to date for the band. Certainly the most controversial. Jared had a specific vision for the video, making it into a short film like others that Mars had done previously under his direction. The content would be decidedly dark, decidedly sexual, and decidedly violent._

_They shot while on tour for the album, spending a few days in New York City, another few in Chicago and Indianapolis shooting scenes featuring the band. Jared also brought in a bevy of actors to appear in the project besides himself, Shannon and Tomo. There were women who'd be naked or nearly so. There were other women who'd engage in BDSM activities, with Jared and with each other._

_As Jared wrote the scenes, a thought occurred to him. This video was to be about exploring fantasies and sexuality and it would do that, but while there was hetero action and girl/girl action, there was nothing in terms of male/male sexual activity. And in all fairness, Jared thought, there should be._

_Jared considered hiring two gay actors, but then he changed his mind. If he was going to get freaky with girls on film and if he was going to be true to his vision, then_ he  _would have to get freaky with a guy on film. Nothing as explicit as the girls. Implied sex...perhaps some skin, some caresses, maybe even a quick glimpse of a kiss with plenty of tongue. Yeah, that'd do it._

_Jared mulled over choices of who'd be right for the other guy. One of these was a close friend of his, a drop-dead gorgeous and very closeted gay Russian model Jared had met a few years previously while on tour. They'd become very close friends, and given the vision he had for the video, Jared knew Kristov Belneczek was the perfect person for the scenes he had in mind. Great hair, great body, and most of all, someone Jared felt he could trust._

_It was a risk, though. For himself, and especially for Kristov, whose father was a high-ranking Russian government official. Homosexuality was more than frowned upon in Russia—being gay was dangerous, especially for the son of a politician, as well as for that politician himself._

_But Jared wanted Kristov and no one else. If he was going to do this, and do it on film, he would only do it with someone he was already close to and trusted implicitly. So Jared made the phone call to his good friend, who immediately agreed to a test shoot that would be kept completely secret._

_If it worked out, Kristov could be masked for the video clips,  both concealing his identity and in keeping with the whole bondage and fetish theme. For the test shoot, however, no costumes, no masks. Just the two them, in a kind of experiment. Just to see if Jared could go through with it at all before investing any more time in it._

_Kristov flew to New York and met Jared at the hotel. Accompanying Jared was Terry Richardson, the man who'd agreed to take the photos. In turn, Terry agreed to hand over the negatives and photographs when the shoot was completed and swore the entire thing to utmost secrecy._

_As he set up for the shoot, Terry tried his best to put Jared and Kristov at ease. "Just act natural and pretend I'm not even here," he suggested._

_"Yeah, right," Jared mumbled. His face was growing hot. His nerves were a mess, and he wondered if he could do this. Sure, he was curious. He'd been bi-curious for a long time, and God knew Kristov Belneczek was way beyond attractive, but curiosity and actually doing something about it were two different things. It was too weird. Wasn't it? But if it was, then why was his cock already springing to life before they'd even done anything?_

_Kristov stepped up and slowly began to unbutton Jared's shirt, his dark eyes fixed on Jared's as his fingers brushed lightly over his friend's skin as it was revealed. Jared shivered at his touch and licked his lips. The scent of Kristov's cologne filled his senses_ _—woodsy, earthy, a hint of spice._ _Across the room, Terry's camera clicked. Jared swallowed hard. He'd expected to be nervous. What he didn't expect was to be so suddenly and incredibly turned on. When Kris stepped closer, cupping Jared's face in his hands and leaning in for a kiss, Jared's eyes closed automatically, anticipating._

_"I think you know that I've wanted you for a long time, Jared," Kristov breathed softly. "Relax."_

_"I'm trying." Jared's voice shook with both terror and excitement. "Kris, I—"_

_"Shhh. Trust me. I won't do anything you don't want me to," Kristov whispered and kissed him. Gently, carefully, his tongue slipped in Jared's mouth._

_It should have been gross. It should have freaked him out. Instead, Jared's head swam with the strange but incredibly exciting sensation of a man's flesh pressed intimately against his own, at the unfamiliar scratchiness of Kris's facial hair scraping against his skin. Kristov's hands began to explore Jared's body. Sure fingers played along his ribs, his waist, and then his hips where they settled. After another moment of nervous hesitation, Jared's hands followed suit, mimicking Kristov's every movement._

Oh, my God. This is incredible,  _Jared thought incoherently. This might go way beyond a test shoot. This might go all the way. The thought sent another surge of heat from his loins, shooting through his body that throbbed and ached for more._

_It wasn't long until Jared forgot that Terry was in the room capturing this all on film. He surrendered himself to more kisses, more touches, then to Kristov's nakedness and his own._

_Hard male flesh crushed against hard male flesh. Hands and mouths touching, tasting, exploring. He and Kristov found themselves entwined on the bed as their mutual passion took over, and any remaining inhibitions Jared may have had evaporated. It was immediately clear that Kristov took a dominant approach to lovemaking, and Jared, though unused to giving over control, submitted himself entirely to all that Kristov wanted._

_Later, Terry developed the film in a makeshift darkroom he set up in the bathroom.  Awash in—not regret, exactly, but a kind of frightened and  confused embarrassment—Jared collected the negatives and all of the photographs from Terry. He stood there wrapped in a robe, red-faced and stammering out a mumbled—explanation? Apology? He didn't know. He didn't know what to think, what to say. Across the room, Kristov lay asleep in the bed, his luscious long dark hair spread across the pillow. Jared looked at his newest lover and despite himself, he wanted Kristov all over again. His cock stirred at the thought of what was to come. More, he hoped. A lot more._

_Terry finished packing up his gear and he gave Jared a long look. "I've done some erotic photoshoots in my day," he said. "Straight, gay, lesbian, groups, the works—but this? My friend, this took the prize. My God, Jay, that was nothing short of beautiful."_

Yeah, it was,  _Jared thought, still confused, still reeling. He'd just had the most incredible, mind-blowing sex of his life and it was with another_ guy. _How was he supposed to_ feel _about that? He fixed Terry with a look. "I trust you understand why this has to be between the three of us, Terry. Not a word. Not to anyone. As far as you're concerned, you weren't ever here, and this did not happen. Understand?"_

_Terry pushed his glasses up on his nose and sighed, picking up his bag of gear and slinging it over his shoulder. "Jared, please. I understand perfectly."_

_And Terry was true to his word. The activities the photoshoot captured remained a secret. As did Jared Leto and Kristov Belneczek's passionate love affair, which took place across three continents over the course of several months. Jared gave Kristov the five best photos  from the shoot along with their negatives, keeping the rest of them securely locked in a safe where they remain to this day._

_As the finishing shoots for_ Hurricane _were wrapping up, Jared decided not to include any scenes with himself and Kristov in them. Something about putting what he and Kris had together, even in microshot single-frame inserts strewn among plenty of other erotic scenes, rubbed him the wrong way. It was special. It was private. And it had to stay that way._

I'm not gay, _Jared told himself repeatedly as time went on. And he wasn't. He was absolutely sure he wasn't. He still enjoyed women. He was still attracted to women. He had plenty of sex with women during his relationship with Kristov, perhaps out of need to prove that some switch inside him that he'd never known about hadn't been flipped. But still, the affair went on. The two met every chance they could, spending a night here in one city, two nights there in another, wherever and whenever they could carve out time together._

_But something changed. The friendship they'd once enjoyed prior to making love had changed into something else. They no longer could just hang out and talk. They didn't discuss fashion or current events, nor movies, art, and music as they always had. The sex was incredible, but out of bed there was a different quality to their relationship than what there once was._

_As time passed, Kristov became neurotic, jealous, possessive, and increasingly frustrated at the need they both had for absolute secrecy. He was well aware that Jared was seeing women and it incensed him. He accused Jared of flaunting his conquests deliberately. Their occasional time together, once so anticipated and cherished, became the sites of battle._

_Finally, the situation resolved itself. Mars was touring Russia and Jared snuck a night away during a four-night stop in St. Petersburg, where he and Kristov immediately holed up in a posh hotel and got reacquainted. But the following day, Kristov's father, Yuri, summoned his son home to Moscow for a talk. Someone—probably an operative of Yuri's —had spied them walking hand in hand and kissing during a late night stroll through a beautiful park they'd thought was deserted. Word immediately reached the Kremlin, and Yuri demanded Kristov never see Jared again, or else. Kristov knew who to listen to, knew what could happen to him if he didn't. His status as Yuri's son held no weight over his father's political ambitions and his loyalty to Vladmir Putin._

_The next time Kristov and Jared spoke it was over the phone, and they said their goodbyes._

_Kristov's voice was quiet, toneless, devoid of any emotion, at least on the surface. "If things were different, I'd tell Yuri to go to hell and I'd come to America to live. You and I could be together forever, together_ openly— _but your career_ — _your lust for women_ _—_ _it's impossible. I should have known it would be impossible." His voice finally broke at the end of it._

_"I'm so sorry, Kris," Jared replied softly, and he meant it. He too was heartbroken. But at the same time, he also felt an enormous weight lift from his shoulders at their parting. Not because he couldn't handle being actively bisexual. He enjoyed the hell out of that. But the threat of discovery darkened every blissful moment and turned it into something shameful, and because having sex with someone he'd cared deeply for had so completely altered what had been a wonderful friendship.  And as good as the sex had been between them, it wasn't worth losing the special relationship they'd once had._

 

***

 

I sit, still holding Jared's hand as his voice trails off. I watch him carefully as he stares, unblinking, into the dying flames of our little campfire. A tear forms and slips down his cheek. It's only one tear, but it's enough. It breaks me. It rips me apart from the inside out. All my heart wants to do is reach out and wrap itself around his.

It explains so much about Jared, about why he is the way he is. It explains why sex and love haven't coexisted in his world, and why he held himself away from me physically, even though it was plain he didn't want to. It explains why he'll still do what he needs to do to protect Kristov.

But there is one thing I still don't understand. "Katia. How did he end up married to Katia?"

Jared shakes his head. "That happened because Yuri and Ivan are business associates going back years. They'd always talked about uniting the families by marrying them, but Katia's modeling career took her one way, and Kris being gay, that took him another way. After he and I split, Kristov fell into a deep depression. His career suffered, he was deeply in debt, screwing any guy that looked twice at him, and as I hear it, he was starting to mess around with drugs. Finally, Yuri talked to Ivan, and Ivan made Kris an offer he couldn't refuse. Kris would gain himself a beard, get his modeling career back on track and Ivan would wipe his debts clean. In turn, Yuri brokered a number of lucrative international business deals for Ivan. Most of them illegal, I bet."

"Oh. So it had nothing to do with you. Not then."

"No. I wouldn't meet Katia for another few years. Ivan was behind it, but I'm guessing Kris encouraged her to go for it, too." He sighs heavily. "I knew she was married to a Russian model but the name I heard wasn't Kris's. The rumor mill got it wrong, and she never told me it was Kristov.  So I never knew. Not until she showed up with him at the VMA's this past August."

"But obviously she knew about you and Kris, right?"

Jared nods. "Oh yeah. She knew from day one. I just didn't know she knew until the VMA's. She smiled, told me I was free to go have fun with Kris, and she left."

I swallow hard. "And...did you?"

Jared closes his eyes. "Lanie...I...no. I didn't." He opens them and looks directly at me. "I won't lie to you, though. I wanted to, but no, I didn't. I hung out with the guys and then I went home. Alone. A couple of weeks later, I took off and came right here, right to this place."

I study Jared in the firelight, not saying anything at first. He gazes back, a cautious, tense expression on his face, and then he says, his voice catching a little, "Please tell me I didn't just fuck everything up with you more by telling you all of this."

Oh, God. Jared's just opened up to me in a way he's probably never opened up to anyone outside of his brother. His face is filled with fear now. I have to choose my words carefully, but I have to choose words right now. And they have to be the right words. So I choose the ones my mind is speaking loudest and most urgently.

"I love you, Jared. And I love you all the more for trusting me with something that's so difficult for you to talk about."

His face softens instantly. He opens his arms and I slide into them, closing my eyes as he pulls me tightly against his body, trembling with pent-up emotions set free at last. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." He keeps repeating it in a whisper, and I feel the warm wetness of his tears as they fall against my cheek to mix with my own.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sometimes, no matter how convinced you are, how determined you are to live your life a certain way, something happens that changes the course of your existence, leading you to places and people you never imagined it would. It could be something small, one of hundreds of everyday decisions you make that cause that ripple effect. You ride the tide without knowing what kind of impact you'll eventually make on others and they on you. Or it could be something big and unexpected, a crazy random twist of fate that one day grabs on and sweeps you in a new and completely different direction. On the way, you crash into other people riding the consequences of their own conscious and subconscious choices.

I think about serendipity a lot. I also think about coincidence, if such a thing even exists. I think about the set of circumstances that put people in certain places at certain times and not some other ones. And I think that oftentimes there's something at work in our subconscious, leading us to make choices that ultimately impact not only the rest of our lives, but others' lives as well.

Living in nature as much as I have, I'm aware of the rhythm of life around me and how all things serve some purpose. Nothing is wasted—not food, not energy, not time. In the wild, everything is inherently linked to everything else. Maybe that's why Jared and I found each other here after that chance encounter fourteen years ago, and this time it was he that needed to be rescued in my environment just like he'd once rescued me in his. Everything always comes full circle. Always.

Jared's calm out here. He's working toward a place of peace inside himself and with me. Just this morning I found him sitting up on a rocky outcropping as the sun rose over the canyon. He sat in a pensive but relaxed pose, serenity almost visibly radiating from him. I watched him from a distance, not advertising my presence. I can see the weight of everything lifting from him and it's a beautiful thing to see. I only wish I could find a way to keep that burden from returning to his shoulders.

I know how much he misses climbing. I can see it in the look of longing he's given the cliff walls around us. I only hope one day he can return to that passion of his. The hike yesterday was taxing enough, and it's a wonder he can manage that much so soon. But he was in a fair amount of pain last night, and once we crawled into our shelter I did my best to soothe away as much of it as I could. Then we made love, slowly and gently, before falling into an exhausted sleep in each other's arms.

This morning, we're going back to the hut further down the canyon. Shelby and I built it solid enough that it should have weathered just about anything. Since we're not going to camp there, we're leaving our packs behind. I sheathe my knife and, after double-checking the safety, Jared tucks my Max in his pocket.

It's a gorgeous and cloudless morning, the temperature in the sixties and climbing. A steady breeze lifts my ponytail and tendrils break free to blow around my face. Just behind me, Jared makes his way on the old trail, his gait slightly stiff, slightly limping, enough to concern me. We've only gone a couple of miles at the most, with a good two or three more to go.

"You doing okay?" I ask.

He throws me his brilliant smile but I can see the discomfort he's trying his best to conceal. "Doing great."

I keep looking over my at shoulder him even though I continue walking. "You're limping."

He shrugs. "I always limp."

I don't let it go. "Is it your back or your leg? Do you need to stop and adjust your brace?"

"My leg's fine. Aches a little, but it's fine. It's my back that's giving me some hell. Probably slept wrong. Walking should help loosen it up, don't you think?"

"Why didn't you say something?" I ask, slowing down. "We didn't have to do this hike today."

Jared scowls. "Don't baby me, Lanie. I won't get better if you baby me."

"You won't get better if you overdo it, either. Before we left, Dr. Lange said—"

His scowl deepens. "Dr. Lange can go fuck himself. I'm doing fine."

"Oh, that's nice. That's real nice." So much for the serene Jared. I know the pain makes him irritable and I try to be understanding of that but for Christ's sake, why must he be so goddamn stubborn? Angrily I speed up, but my whole attention is still on Jared ten yards back, gamely limping his way behind me with a look of determination on his face, and that's probably why what happens next takes me so completely by surprise.

One minute I'm walking, unmindful that I'm descending downhill a little bit, and the next minute my right toe strikes something hard—a rock or an exposed root, maybe—and I'm sprawled face first on the rough ground, gravity and my momentum propelling me forward in a downward slide a few feet before I come to a stop. The palms of my hands sting from a dozen abrasions. I bet my jeans are torn, and I've probably lost a fair bit of skin from my right knee.

"Oh, shit!" Jared exclaims behind me, and I hear his quickened footsteps as he hurries toward me. "Lanie, are you okay? Are you—" the footsteps halt, and he gives a sudden intake a breath. "Oh, my God—Lanie—don't move."

I don't move. I know what Jared's seen because I've seen it, too. I'm frozen in place.

The diamondback rattler is just a few feet away, its ancient, bottomless black eyes looking directly into mine. The snake is coiled tightly, its head upright and drawn back slightly—its striking pose. It's impossible to tell how large it is, but judging by the size of its tail, also stiffly upright and vibrating so fast it's a blur, this snake is a large one. Five feet, maybe more. Not that it matters. Rattlesnakes are lethal whatever their size.

My right hand is nowhere near my belt to get my knife. If I move, the snake will strike before I can get close to it, and laying face down on the ground, I doubt I'd be able to throw my knife with enough power or in the right trajectory to kill it, anyway.

Because snakes strike their prey using their senses to detect motion and scent, if I lay still, if Jared makes no sudden moves, the rattler may lose interest and move on. But this one seems aware of that tactic. It's locked onto my presence, giving no indication that it's going anywhere. We continue to stare one another down in a kind of woman vs. wild standoff. The harsh rattle of its tail fills my hearing, obscuring everything else.

I barely dare to breathe. Every movement of my body causes the snake to tense up further, to draw its head back even more.

Where will it strike me? My right hand and my face are its closest targets. A bite to my face or neck would probably kill me before I can instruct Jared how to administer the antidote, which I don't even have in my possession. It's back at camp in my medical kit. Why the hell didn't I bring my medical kit on this hike? How could I have been so stupid? That kit should never leave my side. Did a couple of months of living in luxurious Hollywood comfort make me forget even the most basic lessons about wilderness survival?

All of these thoughts race through my brain one after the other as I continue to stare into the eyes of almost certain death.

"Lanie....I've got the gun in my hand and I'm going to shoot it. Please, please don't move." Jared's voice is trembling, and I understand why. Because of his own experience, he's terrified of the snake. He's also terrified of the snake biting and killing me, but he's even more terrified that he'll fire my gun, miss and end up shooting me. I close my eyes and remember his vantage point. If he's positioned where I think he is, there's about a foot of clearance over my head. I mentally calculate the angle he'd fire from. Yes, if he's a decent shot, he can hit the snake.

I swallow hard. I have no idea how good Jared is with a gun or if he's even fired one before. The subject has never come up between us, another lapse in judgment on my part. Why the hell have I let him carry my gun without at least having some kind of conversation about its handling? And pistols especially are tricky. The Max is no exception. To hit a target from where I think Jared's positioned, he has to aim the Max's sight slightly down and to the left. I murmur those instructions, my eyes never leaving the snake's.

"Lanie, that's too close to you. I can't!" Jared cries in a whisper.

"You have to," I reply, my voice steady even as terror oozes from every pore. "I'm going to roll to the side to give you some clearance, but when I move, the snake's gonna strike. Whether you hit me or the snake hits me, I'm dead either way. So do it." The snake, detecting my voice, tenses further as I speak and the rattling speeds up. With blinding speed it's going to hurl itself at me any second. I have to time this exactly right. I take a deep breath, brace my right hand on the ground to push myself over, and cry, "Now!"

The instant I give the command, I move, and it all happens in slow-motion. From the corner of my eye I see the snake's head shoot forward, mouth open, venomous fangs sprung into place and exposed. Almost at the same time, a deafening explosion fills my ears.

I lay on my back, staring at the solidly blue, cloudless sky, gasping for air. The sound of the gunshot echoes in my head and reverberates from the canyon wall. Jared rushes to me, kneeling down and gathering me in his arms, crying my name, asking me if I'm okay, his panic-filled eyes looking me over even as he holds me. His words tumble over themselves as he gasps out, "I didn't hit you? I didn't hit you? Oh, God, Lanie—"

"I'm okay." But I cling to him, trembling uncontrollably. Jared's heart is hammering frantically against my cheek, his arms around me like bands of warm steel—so strong, and so comforting. I lean into him, close my eyes and allow the residual terror to drain away before I turn my head and look at the rattlesnake laying in two still-twitching pieces just a couple of feet away.

"Great—great shot," I manage.

"Let's—let's go back to camp," Jared whispers into my hair, and I nod my agreement.

 

***

 

Once more, Jared has saved my life. Back at camp that evening, I putter around with making us something to eat while Jared first starts the fire, and then sits in the shade by the shelter, doing something with a bunch of wildflowers he picked at his side, and fiddling with something else that requires his close attention. Every now and then he looks up and over at me, an odd expression on his face that I can't quite figure out. It's a thoughtful one, like he's trying to decide something, but I have no idea what it could be.

The incident with the snake has shaken us both to the core, I know that. It's about as close to death as I've ever come in the wild, and I continually berate myself for being so distracted and ill-prepared for such an encounter. I know better, especially in a place like Oak Creek Canyon.

Jared's fond of saying every fuck-up teaches a person something. Well, that may be true, but fatal fuck-ups don't teach a person a thing except how to foolishly cut one's life short. As the one who's supposed to be the leader out here in the brush, I have to do better than this. My dad would be mortified if he were still around. I taught you better than that, Lanie Jo, he'd admonish me.

A sudden wave of grief swoops in to consume me, and I drop the prickly pear I've been skinning. I bury my face in my hands. Tears burn behind my eyes that I struggle valiantly to control.

God, I miss you, Dad. I miss you so damn much. What would you think of me right now? What would you think of Jared?

"Lanie?" Jared's voice is soft, filled with concern, and very close. "What's wrong? Is it the snake?"

I lower my hands and take a long, quivering breath. "Not exactly. I was just thinking about my dad." I smile up at him wanly. "I was just thinking how much he'd have liked you."

Jared returns my smile. "Because I saved his little girl's life?"

Yup. Twice now. I laugh softly. "Something like that, yeah."

Jared reaches out and wipes my tears away with his thumb. "Come on with me." He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. His blue eyes leave mine and he nods toward the pool at the base of the waterfall. "Let's go for a swim."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "That water's freezing."

"Uh-huh." Jared begins to remove his clothes. I grin and watch him, my arms crossed. He's going to regret this idea the instant that frigid water hits his vitals. Even the relatively warm pool water at the compound has him complaining about his balls shriveling into hard little raisins. The water here is colder by a good twenty or more degrees.

Jared takes his leg brace off and he doesn't hesitate. With a whoop, he runs, naked as the day he was born, and jumps in the deepest part of the lagoon.

I wince. He's going to come up screaming. That cold water will be hell on his leg and back, too.

Jared's wet head breaks the surface again, but he's not screaming. He's laughing. "Come on in, it's great!" He rolls onto his back, his hair spreading out in a fan around him.

I shake my head even as I start undressing. He watches me, his eyes fixed on my body as I reveal it to him. Naked, I stand on a rock at the edge of the water, eyeing it warily. I know it's cold. I know it's going to hurt. But dammit, if he can do it, so can I.

I take a deep breath and dive in.

Oh, my God. I did a Polar Plunge once and it's like that. I come up, gasping for air and already shivering. "Oh, fuck!" I yell. My nipples are hard little pebbles, my whole body is tingling and kind of numb, but somehow, it feels amazing. And even more amazing when Jared swims over to me, grabs me close, and his mouth crashes on mine.

The water feels warmer already.

I wrap my legs around him as he stands on the bottom of the pool, and somehow, even in that cold water, he's hot, he's hard and he's ready. And oh, God, so am I. I'm more than ready.

As he slips inside me, murmuring my name, with a dim alarm I realize we didn't take precautions. Jared's not wearing a condom. I should be stopping him, but I can't. I can't ruin this moment.

Then my thoughts shred like fine silk as he moves within me, languidly at first and then, as the fire inside us stokes to a roaring inferno, Jared grabs my wet hair in his fist and twists it in the way that I love. I arch my head back and, still thrusting deep inside me, he presses his mouth against my neck, nipping, biting, sucking at the tender flesh where my neck joins my shoulder.

I cling to him, gasping, crying out his name, crying out my love, and then together, we reach a shuddering, white hot climax that leaves us both sated, wholly warm and laughing in between kisses.

We swim over to the waterfall and we look up at the cascading water falling around us. God, it's so magical. Everything about this place is so beautiful, so perfect. It's our own little Garden of Eden here and I dread the thought that in a matter of days we're going to leave it, go back to California, and back to Jared's life in the celebrity bubble. I can't handle the thought of him flying to London and having to parade around with Katia Valkov like he's her toy—which, when you get right down to it—is exactly what he is.

I feel like Shelby did the first night at Jared's, when she looked up at the glowing stars on her ceiling and said she didn't want to go to Mexico, or back to Minnesota, that she wanted to stay there forever. Because that's all I want—to stay here with Jared in this tiny bit of paradise forever. To forget that the rest of the world—Hollywood and Katia and Ivan Valkov and Kristov Belneczek and Jared's team of managers and assistants and lawyers exist. Is that so much to ask?

Of course it is.

Jared combs my hair away from my face. He pulls me close to him as we sit on a rock just behind the waterfall. "I've got something to say to you, Lanie. I hope I say it right."

I look closely at him. "You never have a problem saying things right. I'm the one who opens my mouth and a blithering idiot comes out."

"Yeah, well. This is one of those times that I might struggle with saying the right thing, the right way." He wraps his arms around me. "Today I almost lost you. It keeps hitting me how close you came to being killed, Lanie. You and Shelby mean the world to me, and don't for a minute think I ever have or ever will lose sight of that. No matter what happens."

I close my eyes. I know what he's talking about. I know perfectly well, without him saying it. Hating the insecurity in my voice, in my expression, I sigh and say, "It's going to be so hard, knowing she's there with you, the world thinking you're together, and not knowing if you and she are..." I can't say it. I just can't. I can't even imagine it because if I do, I'll lose my mind.

"I know, Lanie. I know. I can't imagine how it feels, and I know I have no right to expect you to accept this, but please understand that I can't make any promises to you about what will or will not happen. Don't ask me to promise something that I'm not sure I'll be able to keep."

My voice is tiny. "I'm not going to ask you to promise me anything, Jared."

 

***

 

It's after nightfall and we're in the shelter. We're warmer now. I'm much warmer as I lay back, my eyes tightly closed and my fingers buried in Jared's hair as he pays homage to every inch of me—with his eyes, then with his hands and fingers, and finally with his tongue—bringing me to a shattering orgasm before sliding up and claiming me completely.

Our lovemaking this time has a frenetic kind of quality, a desperate sense of urgency, a need to convey with more than words our love for one another. Swept up in a wave of feeling, I refuse to allow my mind to dwell on anything else. On my near-death experience, on Jared's imminent trip to Europe, on Katia and Ivan Valkov, on his feelings for Kristov Belneczek that still linger because he's never resolved them. He's here with me now. He's mine, I'm his, and that's all that matters right now.

And so I wipe my mind clear of everything but Jared. I focus my whole attention on him, on pleasing him, on loving him body and soul. Jared seems to be in that same place, his eyes burning into mine as I flip him to his back and ride him, my hair hanging like a curtain on either side of his face, his hands on my breasts as I rock in the rhythm we both love.

Soon, I'm there. I throw my head back and cry out my fulfillment even as deep inside me Jared throbs, he gasps, and his cry joins my own. Then I collapse on him, breathing heavily and raggedly, almost not hearing him when, underneath me, he stirs, sighs, and finally speaks.

"Let's get married."

I freeze, and suddenly I have no breath left in my body. "What?"

"I said, let's get married."

I pull myself up a little and stare down at him. "Married?"

Jared looks back at me, his eyes steady and unblinking in that unnerving way he has about him. "Yeah."

Stunned, I can only stammer out, "You're— you're serious."

Jared nods. "Yeah, I am. I'm completely serious. Vegas isn't far from here. About four hours or so. Let's get dressed, go to Vegas, and do it."

I move off of him and sit up. "Jared, that's insane."

Jared nods again. "Yeah."

"Will you stop saying yeah to everything?" I exclaim. "We can't just run off to Vegas and get married!"

Jared raises himself on one elbow. "Why not?"

I gesture wildly. "Because—because we just can't! That's why!"

Jared raises an eyebrow. "Is that the best you've got? Because we just can't? Why can't we? Give me one valid reason. The only valid reasons I can think of are that you don't love me, or you don't want to marry me. Which one is it?"

"Oh for God's sake." I shake my head. "It's not that. It's—it's because you're a rich famous celebrity, and rich famous celebrities don't just run off to Vegas and elope!"

"Oh?" Jared smirks. "For your information, a lot of celebrities have eloped in Vegas. It's perfectly acceptable."

I sigh. "Vegas marriages are cheap, superficial, and they don't last. I've had one divorce in my life and I have no intention of going through another." I reach for my t-shirt laying crumpled by my pillow and I start to yank it on.

"You're putting that on inside out," Jared observes. I look and realize he's right. With an exasperated sound I tug the shirt off again and turn it right side out, shoving my arms through the sleeves as he says, "Lanie, a wedding in Vegas is no indication that the marriage will fail any more than any other marriage." He puts his hand over mine, stilling my frantic attempts at getting my shirt on. "I want to marry you, Lanie. I see no reason to wait. I don't want a big fancy wedding. You don't strike me as the type of woman who'd want one, either."

I poke my head through the neck hole of the shirt and stare at Jared. Still with that damned calm expression, he stares straight back at me. "You don't have a choice but to wait. There are legalities involved."

"Such as?" he inquires. "In Vegas you just go get the license and do it. No waiting period, no blood tests, nothing."

"How about a pre-nup?" I point out. "Can you imagine what your lawyers, not to mention your family, will do if we come back from this trip married without a fucking pre-nup in place?"

"I don't want a pre-nup," Jared says, sitting up and taking my face in his hands. "To me, all a pre-nup says is that you're expecting the marriage to fail. I wouldn't want to marry you if I thought for a second the marriage was going to fail. I wouldn't marry you if I thought you'd bleed me dry, Lanie. I want to marry you because I love you. I love Shelby, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." His glowing eyes bore into mine before he places a soft kiss on my open mouth. "Marry me," he whispers. "Let's go to Vegas tonight and get married in the morning."

"You're—you're insane," I stammer as I look around for my panties. "Your family will have a stroke if you have a wedding without them. Shelby will be mad, too. Lots of people will be pissed. I mean— your people, my God. What will your people even say?" I locate my panties near the shelter's doorway. I grab them and pull them on.

"Fuck 'em, that's what I say." Jared murmurs and kisses me again. "I've got to get dressed. It's a long hike back to the truck and a four-hour drive. The sooner we go and do it, the sooner we can get back." He pauses, and then slaps himself on the forehead. "Oh. I almost forgot, and I worked on it all afternoon!"

Bemused, I watch Jared scramble nude from the shelter. My mind is a whirlwind of confused thoughts overlaid by shock. But before I can sort out any of it, Jared returns with something in his hands. "We won't have time to get proper wedding attire, but at least you can wear this." He places a wreath he made of wildflowers on my head. "And this."

I look down. In Jared's hand is a ring made of woven thin grasses, intricately braided and knotted. "I had to guess at the size," he murmurs, taking my left hand and sliding the ring on my third finger. Kneeling there, his eyes meet mine. "Marlena JoAnn McCarty, will you marry me?"

My eyes blur, and I close them. It's a magical moment, a moment that I will never forget as long as I live. I have to say the right thing. Opening my eyes, I swallow hard, look down at my hand still in Jared's, and it's trembling. Never in a hundred million lifetimes did I ever imagine this...Jared Leto, on his knees and stark naked, proposing marriage to me with a ring he made out of grass. This is all so bizarre and surreal that I find myself on the verge of hysterical laughter.

Instead I lift my eyes to his, but just in case, I bite my lip to keep the laughter at bay. "On one condition," I manage.

"Name it."

"That no one will ever call me Lanie Leto. That sounds like the name of a cartoon character."

Jared smiles. "You could always use your full name. Marlena Leto." That has a nice ring to it."

"No, that has a horribly antiquated ring to it." I shake my head. "Could I—could I keep—my maiden name?"

Jared studies me. "It's probably a silly, outdated, and maybe even a bit male-chauvinistic way to think, but I've always hoped when and if I ever got married that my wife would take my name. But it's your name, and your choice, Lanie. Completely your choice. No pressure. I just always thought..." his voice trails off as he shrugs and smiles wanly.

In this moment, on the verge of another course my life is taking, I can't help but wonder at all that has happened since the day Jared Leto came so unexpectedly back into my life and turned everything upside down. Back when I was a teenager listening to Jared's music, or watching him fill the screen in one of his movies, I could have never ever dreamed of this outcome. Through the years of marriage to Todd, when in a private moment I'd take out that silver guitar pick and think about the way Jared's eyes locked on mine in the midst of all that chaos. No, I never imagined the twists and turns of life that would somehow lead me to this moment.

I draw a deep breath. "Okay."

Jared's face grows very still, and his gaze intensifies. "Okay, what? Okay, you'll marry me, or okay, you'll marry me and take my last name? You know you can still go by Lanie McCarty if you prefer, even if legally you changed—"

"Yes." Through a blur of tears I smile. I reach out and caress his bearded face. "The answer to both is yes."

Jared pulls me tightly against him and in return, I wrap my arms around him, stroking his bare back, feeling his body and mine melt together. His hand slides up to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, and I close my eyes when his mouth finds mine. In his kiss I feel the strength of his love, the strength of his resolve. His kiss tells me louder than words one simple truth—whatever we're going to face in the days and weeks to come, we'll face it together.

And we'll get through it together.

 

The End.

***

A/N: Stay tuned. The next book in this series, UNFORGETTABLE, is coming very soon! I've so much enjoyed bringing to you Lanie and Jared's story, and I hope you'll come along on the rest of their journey! There's SO much more ahead!

And as always, my deepest thanks for reading, commenting, and kudos.


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